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I wish I could go back in time and be a mentor to you. You’re just a kid, and you have no idea how different things could be. You think that your life is normal, and that’s just the way it is. You think that, surely, everyone’s parents must hate them at least a little bit. You think it’s weird when people hug each other, or when people on TV say ‘I love you’. You think that everyone’s house must be filled with hostility and shouting and slamming doors, that’s just life. You pretend that you don’t like any physical contact, like it’s a choice you made rather than something that’s been denied to you. You decide that you just hate people in general, because it’s safe. Caring makes you vulnerable, so you’ve decided that you don’t care.
I want to tell you that we do care, actually. We care a lot. About everything. So much that it physically aches.
I want to send a copy of myself back in time, so that you and your brothers get the upbringing you deserve.
You’ll probably think my hair’s weird, but you’ll love the bright colours. When you ask if I’m a boy or a girl, I’ll just say ‘no’ and then we’ll do some colouring. You love colouring. I won’t make you go shopping with me, because I know you hate the bright lights and noise. When your parents are arguing, I’ll take all 3 of you kids and we’ll go to the park, walk around the woods. We’ll sword-fight with sticks and you’ll climb trees while I stand under the branches, ready to catch you if you fall. When you scrape up your hands and knees, I’ll clean you up and hug you and tell you it’s ok, you’re such a brave little warrior. When your brothers play a little too rough, I won’t raise my voice or my hand. We’ll run it off and talk it out, and you’ll learn that it’s possible to resolve things without risking a much bigger fight. You kids just have too much energy and emotion in such tiny bodies, you can’t keep it all in. It’s not your fault, and adults should know better than to hold you to higher standards than they hold themselves.
When you tell me about your day at school, I’ll listen - really listen. You’ll tell me that you don’t understand how numbers work, and I’ll get you the help you need. You won’t have to stay in the house when the other kids are playing, doing maths questions over and over and getting nothing right. You’ll learn the word ‘dyscalculia’. It’s a big word for a young kid to get their mouth around! You’re good at words, though. You read a lot. You’re good at writing, too, when you have the chance to really think about it.
When you tell me that one of your teachers is picking on you, when you come home crying and hungry with your favourite things covered in dirt, I’ll listen. That teacher will get his ass kicked, and if he doesn’t get fired I’ll send you to a different school. This one’s no good for you anyway, they don’t understand how your mind works. They don’t know what you’re capable of. They’re adults, they should know better, but they don’t. It’s not your fault.
When you tell me the other kids are bullying you, I’ll find something better to say than ‘stay out of their way’. If the school decides it’s not their problem, I’ll make it their problem. You’ll have someone on your side, in your corner. At absolute worst, I’ll find a way to homeschool you, and we’ll find hobby clubs and things for you to meet other kids at.
I’ll support you three, no matter what. I’ll pay attention. If you need a mental health day, you’ll get it. If you need therapy, you’ll get it. You won’t ever have to be scared of being honest, of living as yourself.
You won’t flinch when people touch your shoulder.
You’re worth something, no matter what anyone says. You deserve so much better.
I can’t control everything, but we’ll get through it.
Together.
I love you.
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Xxxxxxxxxxxxx can’t add anything..perfectly articulated.
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