The Versions Of Me That Didn’t Make It

I often find myself sitting with the versions of me that didn’t make it. They are unaware I’m observing them, but I watch what they do. From the woman who gave too much of herself to the little girl full of anger. For the longest time I didn’t recognize those versions of me. “How could I have ever been so naive? I entirely threw out all of me to try to make them happy.” “How could I be so angry? Punching walls, hurting myself, being a sore winner and sore loser. Hurting those around me with a terrible attitude.”

Hindsight is always 20/20 and I had to learn the hard way that people pleasing is ultimately manipulation. I had to learn the hard way that the only person guaranteed in my life is me, and that no matter what I do I can’t make another stay. I had to learn through years and years of growth and therapy that little me had every f**king right to be angry, but no right to take it out on others. I had to learn the hard way that I never deserved that in my childhood and that no other child does either. I had to learn the hard way that my anger is my body’s way of warning me that I am being disrespected and that I deserve better. I had to learn the hard way that hurting myself was the way I learned to cope and survive a time I didn’t think I’d make it and at times didn’t think I wanted to.

I can sit with them now even when they are hard to face. Those two versions, the child who couldn’t understand why she wasn’t enough and the woman who still felt the same, the child who was told she was too much and the woman who still felt the same. The woman who performed for her worth and the woman who failed to communicate her wants and needs. That’s not all they are. It took so long to see and so many visits with them before it finally clicked. Before I gave them the grace they always deserved from me.

These versions are also the kid who loved football and a woman so eager to give love, because she knows how it feels to walk through life feeling unloved. The child who tried so hard to help others and understand them even at her young age and the woman who has been told she can read minds because she pays attention to that level. She knows what it’s like to feel invisible. They are also the child who loved making people laugh because she knew in that moment they were happy and the woman who listened to what her mom said about laughter being the best medicine. The woman who would rather someone find her to be too much than just enough to use. The woman who freely gave and the woman tried to keep others comfortable by analyzing what she needed to survive versus what would make her comfortable.

There’s positives and negatives in each version of me that didn’t make it. Just like there will be with the version I am now. The woman dedicated to bettering herself, to healing, the becoming strong physically because lord knows she doesn’t need any more emotional strength training right now. The woman dedicated to understanding communication, her own triggers, and how to love with boundaries. The one who might not get out as much as she should and might still cry at times when she’s angry. Shes still that little girl who wasn’t allowed to show it, but she’s learning that she’s safe to show it now.

I often sit with the versions of me that didn’t make it but they remain unaware of my presence.

Perhaps I should invite them for coffee.