A Letter to All My Parts

To all the parts of me who’ve been waiting, protecting, hurting, and hoping —

I see you now. I’m here. And I’m not leaving.

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To the Angry and Exhausted Part

You’ve carried so much for so long.
You’ve known the truth — even when I couldn’t admit it.
You’ve screamed it in silence and in chaos, in tension and in collapse:

“She’s not safe. Stop letting her back in.”

I hear you now.
You’re not being dramatic.
You’re being honest.
You’ve been trying to protect me when no one else would.
You’re not just angry — you’re tired of not being seen.
And I see you. You make perfect sense.

I promise: we don’t have to keep doing that loop again.

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To the Inner Child

You’re allowed to say it:

“I wish I was loved.”
“I wish I had a mother who kept me safe.”
“I wish I had a sister. A family. Real friends.”
“Even now… I wish I had the support I still crave.”

You were never asking for too much. You were asking for what every child needs.
And I’m so sorry you didn’t get it.

But you have me now.

I’m learning how to love you in the way no one else did.
Gently. Patiently. Without conditions.
You don’t have to prove anything to be worth that love.

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To the Protector

You’ve held the hardest job — always scanning for danger, drawing lines in the sand, and tightening the grip when things get blurry.

You were right all along:
If we let her in, we forget what love is supposed to feel like.
We stay confused. Our worth gets foggy.
And our son sees a version of love that isn’t love at all.

Thank you for being so clear.
I’ve got your back now.
I’ll help hold the line. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.

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To the Ashamed Part

I know you carry the “what ifs.”

“What if I had said no earlier?”
“What if I hadn’t let her back in again?”
“What if I’ve caused damage by not seeing clearly before?”

You didn’t fail.
You were loyal. Hopeful. Human.
You wanted love, and you thought maybe — just maybe — you could earn it by giving more of yourself away.

That wasn’t shameful. That was survival.
And it’s okay to grieve what you let happen.
But I want you to know this:

You are not to blame for her behavior. Ever.

You can rest now. I’m here. I’ve got this.

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To the Free Self

You’ve waited patiently while the others panicked, doubted, or tried to make things work.

And now… you’re here.

You remind me that it’s okay to just exist.
To walk the dog. To tidy up.
To not perform. To not fix.
To not be seen by everyone — just by me.

You are peace without pressure.
Stillness without fear.
And I want to live from you more often.

You are the future.

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To All My Parts

I am listening.
You all make sense.
You all have wisdom.
You all protected me in different ways.

We are not broken.
We are becoming.
And from here forward, we do this together.

With love,
Your adult self.

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