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    « Dreamy Dolls | Principale | Laughter in the soles of my feet... »

    martedì 9 giugno 2009

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    gina Gabriell

    Chel,

    Perception and pain through the eyes of a child...

    Look at that picture, what a sweet little girl, big brown eyes sweet smile and soft bunny hair.

    We all smelled like pee, we all had bad haircuts and we all had secrets at home. The difference is that some of us knew it, some of us didn't, and some of us didn't care.

    I hated being in the free lunch line, I hated that my mother forgot me at school four days out of five, I hated that I wore boys clothes smelled like cigarettes and that my mother could not help but cut my bangs about three inches to short every damn September as if I needed the haircut to last longer.

    I was a child that was not well loved or cared for.

    The beauty is that I got a second chance. Every time I wrap myself around one of my children, every time one of them smiles up at me and every time I am able to say some thing that makes a difference to them is a healing moment for me.

    I have relived my childhood through my children. I find ways to give them what I could never have and I don't mean "things" I mean honesty, unconditional love and all of me. I stand close by and watch them, how they experience life fills me up.

    Your mother and my mother did not have that to give, they were locked inside a different reality. They gave what they could but they had no way to gauge if it was ever enough.

    When I look at old pictures of myself I can see the sad scroungy kid I was but I also know that I am no longer that sad little girl, she grew up and found new mothers, created her own family and learned how to love and be loved.

    Look at that photo one more time, pretend that she is your daughter, what would you say to that little girl if she asked you "Why she was ugly" You and I both know her mama would tell her "You are the most beautiful girl in the world, point out the kid who said that and I will give them a wedgy they will never forget"

    You have to do what your mother could not, and love yourself, really love yourself. Find every picture of you and pin them to a big poster board. Go back to those moments in time and be your own guardian angel.

    Tell that little girl that some day she will grow up and live in a beautiful house with a big tree in the front yard, two dogs, and two children who love her.

    Tell that girl that when she grows up she will be strong, smart, funny and will have more friends than she has time to love.

    Tell that little girl that when she grows up her mother will live some place where she is not confined to a body that limits her instead she will dance in a place where she can blossom, tell stories, and run as far as she wants and never get tired.

    The little girl will miss her mother but once her mothers body is gone so are the chains that bound that little girl to her mothers pain and sadness. The little girl will be free to find her own happiness, and there will be plenty of it.

    You are safe Chelise, and you are far away from all of those days that hurt. The rest of your life belongs to you.

    If I was your mother I would tell you how beautiful you are, how proud I was of you, and to be here in this moment where your son is on the edge of becoming a young man, your daughter adores you and your husband waits for that dark curtain you are behind to lift again.

    There is no time for sadness anymore. Set that little girl free. You are sitting in a new circle of friends, no mean teachers, no nasty photographers just people waiting to hear how the rest of your story unfolds.

    Change history.

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    ZNE

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