Bare your teeth, girl.

Yesterday, I released the plug on a tub that runs so deep in me that when it happened, I could physically feel the “whoosh” of protective space between me and this thing I’ve been hiding from.

It is the lowest part of me that repeats what she’s been taught. I don’t matter. I am not worthy of protecting and honoring. I deserve whatever bad thing that is happening to me right now because I’m not enough.

Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not worthy enough.

What the actual fuck?

She’s young – the one who will take her toys and go home – and wiser than she should be at her age. Around 16 is my guess and she is ANGRY. (I can feel the tension in my throat from the truth of that.) Honestly, I wouldn’t fuck with this part of me.

She’s is the part who takes over when I need safeguarding. She’s the one who will look a threat in the eye and think “I will kill you” and mean it. If you’ve ever thought, “when I first met you, I was intimidated by you,” it’s probably because you saw her lurking in my eyes.

Ever vigilant. Ever protective.

Even though I didn’t know she was there, and I certainly didn’t call for her in a benign situation like meeting someone for the first time. But I guess with her age comes lack of judgement. How is she to know the difference between friend and fuck-wad, when the lines of trust were so easily ignored by people who were in charge of her?

At 16, she was born as a maladaptive path to protect me from the bullshit I had already endured. And she has served me well over many years. I can see how she would intimidate, but she doesn’t scare me. She IS me.

So, what do I do with you now, my gritty, bare-your-teeth girl who’s never actually been IN a fight? Long ago I called you my “little bitch” inside because of how persistent you were in NEVER EVER letting me give up, even when things were at their bleakest.  

But that name doesn’t honor you as it should. You’re not a bitch. You’re a badass. And you’ve been ready to punch someone in the neck if the need arises for a while now.

I give you a new name and like a treasure, I keep it to myself.  

I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for all these years and give you a hug. You must be so tired! You’ve carried me for so long. But a new part of me needs to take over now. And like a cliched newborn fawn on fresh legs, I’m going to give it a good hard try.

I honor you and offer you a seat inside my heart because you’ve done your best to let me know that I AM worth fighting for. I AM enough. Just as I am.

Now sit down, my little badass. Time to rest. I’ll call you when I need you again.