Not Through My Eyes.

ImageToday I sent off a picture of the child I was to someone who is doing a collage of survivors. I didn’t think so much of it until I was staring at his face. Looking at the bruise on his forehead. Looking at the smile on his face that hid the horrors he had endured the night before.

He still smiled.

My therapist used to tell me often to take out a picture of myself when I was a child and to really look at the face and the innocence that’s there. I never really did it. I didn’t see the point. I didn’t believe what she was telling me.  She wanted me to look at him with my eyes and not my parents.

I couldn’t do it.

I hate that child. I agree with what he endured. I wish I could go back in time and push him down the stairs and tell him how much I hate him. Because I do. Some days I hate him so bad that I wish I could reach in and rip him out and throw him away.

I see him through my parent’s eyes. I see that he is unworthy. That he caused his parents to do the things they did to him. That he didn’t fit and wasn’t good enough to be part of anything, including his family. I don’t even see him as a child. I’d never hurt a real child, I’d never hate one, but him, I loathe.

He made his parents that way. They were not abusers until he came into their lives. It was his fault that they did things people would think as awful. Yet they were not awful people. They were good; they just got landed with a child that made them do bad things.

Today I looked at his face and saw him with my eyes.

It was one of the hardest things I have done.

20 thoughts on “Not Through My Eyes.

  1. That saddens me but I understand it. As children we have no choice sometimes but to blame ourselves for what is happening to us. As adults we find that hard to let go of. When I look in those childs eyes I see a desperate wish to just be okay, whatever is thrown at them. I like your therapists idea. One day I hope to be able to do that myself. Take care, B.

    • I love that precious little boy. If he was mine, I’d cuddle him so many times and make him the happiest little child in the world. I’d tell him I loved him and protect him and let him play with all his friends–he’d have the happiest childhood in the world. He’d know and feel that love all of his life. And his smiles and laughter would last forever.

  2. Very proud of you for taking a good look at the picture. I hope you see the sweet, cute boy that we all see. The kid that did not want to be hurt. Just accepted what he could not change or escape. 🙂

  3. Here’s to looking at you. Through a man’s eyes. Why do these things come out sounding odd in font? But I think you know what I mean.

  4. Don’t see him with your parent’s eyes. They ARE AND WERE WRONG! I see a little boy that needed to be loved and SHOWN his WORTH!

  5. I hate your parents for what they did. They had a choice and they made the wrong choice. They sucked. They took pieces away from you that you might never get back.
    They did not deserve the bright spirit of you.

  6. Dude. I used to do the same thing you do: condemn the ‘little child’ and hate ‘myself’ and try to destroy him. “We” held court and held him responsible. “We” put him in our Ice World. We cut. We burned ourself. And as you know it all does not good.

    You know I’m MPD (mulitple). You wanna guess what made it right? Helped? Quit looking at ‘him’ as ‘you’. Look at him as a HUMAN child – a REAL one who needed some love. Are you gonna give it to him? I ask this because I was never kind. It wasn’t until my grownup alters got onto me and turned my head and FORCED me to look at him and said:

    “What would you do if this was a REAL human child? An abused little boy? One who doesn’t want to be abused anymore? Why are you abusing him? Would you slap and throw away a REAL human child? A kid who came up to you like THAT? (seeing the picture you posted). No, I imagine not. I imagine you would try to help him. Make him your son (or in my case a little brother). Hug him, hold him. There is no shame for what he has done. He was simply doing the best that he could do for a little boy. After all, whatta ya expect out of children? God? So be rather kind – hug him and hold him in your mind.”

    And dude? It took a long time; me looking at him again and again with the grownups in me by my side saying ‘looky there – give him some love’ – and it worked. Over time “I” grew to understand what he had been through, what he wanted in life (some happiness and love). And I can’t fault him for that because guess what? I want the same thing. So we made peace, me and ‘him’ and now he’s my little brother and ‘I’ love him.

    “We’ve” all been hurt . . . made ‘mistakes’ – but they weren’t mistakes. We were just searching for some human happiness. Just like he was. And that’s okay. It was the abusers who made him do the things they wanted to do. Not him.

    He’s just a hurt little boy. So don’t abuse him any more. Treat him just as you would treat an abused little boy who showed up at your front door.

    Matthew & friends.
    (aka Jeffery’s alter)

  7. My heart bleeds for this little boy. He never did anything wrong but be born and long for what all children should automatically get… his parents’ protection and unconditional love.

  8. I know this post was written a few years ago but whether then or now I still would feel the same way. I am torn between two emotions; I am sad for this beautiful child and so angry at the parents who could not understand the gift given to them. A child is a gift to be cherished, loved and held tightly and hugged. A parent’s job is to teach them to grow up and become a responsible, caring adult. It is they who failed not you. You were the victim. My heart bleeds for you and all children who have to suffer at the hands of adults especially your own parents. That little boy you see in the picture was innocent and so worthy of love.

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