I always say trust me with your story and I’ll show the world you’re a work of art. Today I’m working with dark colors in order to create a master piece. I’m going to see if I can maneuver words in such a way that you can feel the pain I felt for this young lady. So you can see how proud I was of her strength when a tormented princess started to transform into a queen.
All this talk of royalty reminds me fantasies that were alive in child hood dreams.
Disney always taught me a father was a child’s first protector. Life taught me that men can be wicked. Oh so very wicked wicked wicked. I never pretend to understand. I never say that a smile means everything will be alright. If you live in a house of lies I do promise I will always try my best to give you the key to open the front door. If only in hope that you never get to the point where you have to jump out the window. Always step back from that ledge my friend. This is beautiful. What you are reading is beautiful, but I’m sad about it. I’ve been tormented about the thought of this every since I started this piece. A princess wrote to me and asked me to share her story.
I had her email it to me.
I read it…
This is no fairy tale.
Then I read it again…
I hope this can’t be.
Then I read it one more time, just to wrap the constraints of the the visual around my mind.
Now there’s no escaping…
If it was a stranger it would still sadden me. It would still make me angry to the point of rage but since I know her personally the images after she initially asked me to read this haunted my soul.
No Casper here, these aren’t friendly ghost.
Writing this took me to a dark place. But I had to go there. If she was going through Hell she shouldn’t have to face Hades alone.
This is the story of one particular girl who represents so many. Too many. This is the story of a princess who grew up in a house of lies. This is what comes after Once upon a time and before Happily Ever After. I guess it depends how the story is told…
The Lost Princess Diaries
Once upon a time, there was a little girl. That’s how most fairy tales start, right? Once upon a time. I love the sound of that, the assumed distance from reality, as though whatever transpires in the following story is made of tantalizing imaginations, magic, and the inevitable happy ending.
Betrayal and rescue are the revolving themes of her life. At six months blood first betrayed her, and each new foster home was thought to be the latest rescue. She realized quickly she was destined to be a victim, enslaved to the pattern of hope followed dangerously close by its enemy, disappointment.
The beginning years are a blur, and although undoubtedly vital to her upbringing, nothing shaped her heart, mind, and soul more than The Attack on Innocence from roughly ages 5-13.
Minus the biological definitions, some define ‘father’ as “a man who exercises paternal care over other persons; paternal protector or provider”.
Ironic, the keyword in the definition is ‘protector’. Protect. Verb. To keep safe from harm or injury.
She knew it was wrong. The pit in her stomach, the cold sweats, the nightmares, the anxiety, the uncomfortableness, and the utter terror confirmed that. But how was she to know when she was constantly being assured that it was okay, that having a secret from mommy wasn’t a big deal, that this was what would make him happy. Sometimes she wondered why if it was all okay, why he would apologize and tremble after.
As years continued on, the attacks and violations became less frequent, yet more creatively thought out and conveniently disguised to be portrayed as pure. Memories after memories had successfully been deeply repressed; it was a relief to be temporarily sane, although the reality was she was being fooled by the cleverest of schemes, brainwashed to the core and oblivious to the vile crimes being committed to her body.
Luckily for her, she is a warrior. She is strong, she is brave, she is fierce. She will overcome the darkness in her past, find herself back in the light, and fight through the trauma… She is me, and this is my sanctuary to find forgiveness, peace, understanding, and healing. And this is my documentation of my thoughts and feelings throughout my journey.
I know she’s not the only one. But why did I create this place if not to be a platform for those in pain? For those who it’s hard to take deep breaths and they are always waiting to exhale. Wanting to be light means you have to take on a few shadows. Younglionblog the safe haven for your emotions and place to flush out your traumas. Out of respect I promised to leave this young lady anonymous. Out of love I had to write this.
I had to help her share this.
Again I know she’s not the only one. Sometimes just being born is a girls admission into the Lost Girls Club. So I am genuinely sorry to all the Sleeping Beauties that got touched by the hands of betrayal in the middle of the night. They never told you with your Beauty, Beast might really be a demon not a prince in disguise. For all the Princess Jasmine’s that wanted to run away from home but your pain didn’t come with 3 wishes and a genie. To every Arial that never got to swim free because you were drowning in the sea of molestation. Soul black as ebony, heart as pure as snow. Don’t let them rotten apples stop you from being the fairest of them all. Your reflection should’ve been protected by all the mirror mirrors on every wall. Cinderella it would seem that midnight came young and early. Torturous memories and tragedy fit to you as if a glass slipper. I know I can’t make it right. I can’t take away all those years that you felt defeated. Where you felt wanted in the most disposable way. What I can do is promise with me you’ll never have to keep secrets. Together we can even make the most ugly of truths, beautiful. Because you are a work of art.
I know you’re reading this. I know another woman who felt alone at some point is reading this.
So from this point on its just me and you
You and I as if we are sands and ocean tides.
Thank you for reaching out and sharing this with me. Thank you for asking me to write this and turn your story into art. You probably don’t even realize how many other people needed to hear these words. I wish I could’ve been there so you never had to go through this battle, but I’m now I’m part of your war. But you never needed a prince to save you. You never needed a man to rescue.
You are my hero.
Still I offer some form of apology…
I’m sorry queen.
I’m so sorry mentally and physically you have to deal with the consequences and repercussions because the man who had the most influence in your life didn’t want to deal with the consequences and repercussions. One day I hope to have a beautiful wife and daughter. When I hold my daughter in my arms I will give her all the love, nourishment and protection at a young age you were supposed to receive. She will not have innocence forcibly taken away. When I kiss my wife I will appreciate and adore her as a women, like the right man will come in your life and do the same for you. Sometimes the way the world is isn’t how it should be. Sometimes love isn’t the action we speak. Just know you have the kind of strength that can’t be measured. Everything amazing about you doesn’t go unnoticed. No fairy tales here but I believe you are on your path to reachable Happily Ever After, but until then…
you stay strong queen.
you are not defined by only by this queen.
you are an inspiration queen.
you not alone queen.
you don’t have to be numb queen.
you appreciated queen.
you are not his mistakes queen.
you are more than dark secrets queen.
you are beauty queen.
you are perfectly imperfect queen.
you are loved queen.
you are life queen.
you live life queen.
you be light queen.
you are everything.