I was once a little boy, born into a little girl's body.
One day, and perhaps on many others, that poor little boy was hurt. He was taken advantage of in the worst ways, by a very bad person, who did some Very Bad Things.
He was very young, and especially vulnerable: he was always a bit off-- a tad Different-- and being in a little girl's body made him extra invisible.
Maybe the people that hurt him so badly had sensed this; they knew this different little boy was already barely seen.
Does abusing an invisible child leave any marks?
This boy knew such pain, such suffering... all in secret. He was too young to know any different. He never knew safety-- he was never comforted for his abuse. His wounds never even saw the light of day.
And so this little boy retreated further and further into himself. He was hurt, and confused, and so very lost. Any time he reached out and sought comfort he was instead met with more tension and strain.
Every day, this lost little boy receded further and further from the world-- back, back, back-- deeper and deeper into himself he fell.
Lost inside himself, where no further harm could befall him, this was the closest he could get to safety.
That hurt little boy, absent as he was, grew up into a Very Good Little Girl: so quiet, so self-sufficient. His misunderstood invisibility cloaked him in shame, but at least there he was safe-- unseen, unheard, and perpetually alone.
That quiet little girl grew up, too, into an even quieter and profoundly isolated person.
They had always felt themselves to be different, maybe broken or defective in some way, and found they were always running away. Running away from reality, from home, from their pain... Forever running away from themselves, they found they were instead constantly running away into themselves.
Very much like that lost and hurt little boy they used to be, they would escape and fall away into themselves, sinking deeper and deeper-- once again receding from the world-- in that lonely and invisible fashion to which they had grown so familiar.
So many parts of themselves were inaccessible to them; they didn't know What, or Why, they couldn't remember. They didn't know about that hurt, lost little boy and the terrible harms inflicted on him.
No one ever really saw that poor little boy, and he had given up on feeling love and security a tragically long time ago.
And so he kept floating and sinking, sinking and falling... barely there, barely alive. Frozen in time and space as a broken little boy, he was forever trapped in suspension inside a body that rendered him invisible.
He never really stood a chance, but something deep within him, even in his young, damaged, permanently arrested state, stubbornly clung to Life.
He knew no comfort, yet knew it existed. He never felt security, yet knew safety was real. He had never been seen, yet knew visibility was possible. He saw no love, yet knew he was deserving of experiencing it.
So he stuck around, still floating in that hurt, conflicted adult he had grown up into.
That adult knew parts of themselves were missing-- had been taken from them in a most heartless manner-- and despite barely clinging to life themselves, stubbornly held on, maybe only on behalf of that lost, invisible little boy patiently waiting to be found.
Through many years and many tears, that adult eventually learned to stop running-- learned to Sit Still within themselves. They stopped running, in the hopes that these crucial missing parts of their being might someday be willing to make a reappearance.
Slowly, very slowly, they began to remember. Not everything, not all at once, but piece by piece, they were able to reclaim aspects of themselves they had believed to be lost forever.
Bit by painful bit, this hurt adult was beginning to know Wholeness.
The puzzle they found themselves putting together was very somber; it held much darkness and sorrow. As they worked in from the edges and corners, they had to take lengthy breaks, to feel the difficult feelings being brought up, and to allow themselves to fully come to terms with the pain inflicted on a misunderstood child that had the cards stacked against him from Day One.
It was reaching the heart of the puzzle, however, that threatened to bring them to their knees.
They fought hard against the memories-- wished desperately, with all their spirit, for it not to be so-- but so it was.
They had found that poor little boy, filthy, hurting, and alone, completely cast aside from the world. His spirit was so crushed, his light so dimmed, that he had given up crying for help ages ago.
They found him sitting in Shame: used and abused, discarded and silenced. With a heavy burden on his soul, and tense silence in his eyes, he only looked back at them apprehensively.
Would he be hurt again now that he had been found?
This was when they crumbled-- they took this poor little boy in their arms and cried for him. They cried harder than ever before.
They wiped the dirt off his little cheeks, swept him in a gentle embrace, and wept for all the pain and injustice he had endured.
This little boy didn't make a sound the whole time, didn't even shed a single tear-- Tears hadn't stopped the Bad from taking place when he was hurt; tears were instead met with more Hurt.
They urged the little boy to come back Home to them, that it was Safe now... it was finally safe.
They lovingly removed the burdens placed on his too-young shoulders, and thanked him for his strength and resiliency. They soothed the damage done to his too-young heart, and thanked him for not giving up Hope. Mostly, though, they cried and cried and cried.
They apologized, again and again... They were so Sorry.
Seeing the boy's suffering-- feeling it up close in raw detail, and how it endured for years in terrible silence-- they cried all the tears that should have been cried for him back then.
They just didn't know. No one did.
That little boy grew up into a Fine Young Man, still living in a young woman's body. That young woman, however, is there to protect that precious little boy.
Together they will make sure he is never hurt like that again... Together they will know Safety and Security. Together they will finally be seen. They will be the best man they know how to be, and ensure no child ever hurts the way that little boy did.
I was once a little boy, and I was Helpless.
Now, the power is in my own hands-- and what is more powerful than a tender Man, broken and hurt as a Boy, growing up unseen as a Girl, and gifted with the understanding perspective of a Woman?
Now, I am unyielding; I will never hurt that way again. No one would dare test their strength out on me, for I am not a little boy anymore. I know my place in the world, and no one can take that away from me again.
Underneath all the pain and heartache, though, I am just so relieved to have that little boy back home. There is profound joy in knowing he is at last safe with me, such that he can live the life he was meant to live, and feel the radical love he always deserved to feel.
His hurt is not invisible anymore, and he no longer has to carry it alone.
Thank you.
