A Narcissistic mother .The letter to me the child

 Letter to My Younger Self

Dear Little Me,

I see you.

I Hiding behind the door, heart pounding at every footstep. Whispering “sorry” before you even know what you’re apologising for. Holding your breath, hoping this time it won’t hurt, this time it will be different. But it never is.

I want you to know: none of it was your fault. Not her rage. Not their silence. Not the shame that settled into your bones like winter. You were only ever a child, longing for safety, for love, for someone — anyone — to say, “I’ve got you.” But they didn’t. They left you there, small and scared and confused.

You didn’t deserve any of it.

I wish I could have reached you sooner — pulled you out of that house, wrapped you in warmth, told you that your voice matters. That you matter. But I’m here now. I made it. We made it. And I promise you, I will never look away from your pain again.

You are not broken.

You are the strongest person I know.

Even when the world told you to disappear, you stayed. Even when no one clapped for you, you kept moving. You learned how to be your own light in the darkest room. And all those tears? They weren’t weakness. They were truth. They were power.

One day, you will grow up to hold a paintbrush like a sword. One day, you will write your own story with the same hands that once trembled in fear. One day, you will look in the mirror and see not shame — but survival.

And you will be proud.

I forgive you for believing you were unlovable.
I forgive you for not knowing how to fight.
I forgive you for surviving the only way you could.

And I thank you — for enduring. For not giving up. For being brave enough to dream, even in the ruins.
But 
You are no longer alone.

I am with you now.
I see you.
I love you.
I will never leave you.

With all my heart,
Me — the woman you grew into.
Still standing. Always standing. because one day, another frightened child will find your words.