I could write about my grandmothers, both long dead. I could write about my teachers, I was fortunate to have many excellent teachers. But I won’t.
Thank you, abusive stalker ex-boyfriend.
Thank you for this beautiful child I have. He’s almost ten. He’s never seen you. He’s small but he’s tough. He’s smart and he’s got a big heart.
Thank you for the chance to learn exactly how strong I am. For somehow not pulling that trigger and putting a bullet in my back.
Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of prayer – Lord, let me get out alive!
Thank you for the opportunity to learn all about shame and holding my head up.
Thank you for the scars, they remind me how far I have come.
Thank you for all those nights I kept the light on and barely slept. They gave me hours alone with God.
Thank you for making me learn how the courts treat victims, years before a judge taught me how the system really works and who it works for.
Thank you for isolating me from my friends and family. Now I know who I can really trust.
Thank you for spending all my money on drugs. Being pregnant I signed on with a temp agency and got to see the inner workings of many businesses.
Thank you for hunting me down and screaming at me over and over. I can run like a deer and hide like a rabbit now.
Thank you for reading my privet notebooks. I didn’t write for ten years and now have many stories to tell.
Thank you for telling me all your ex wives and girlfriends were crazy. Now I know to run like the wind when I hear that phrase from a man.
Thank you for hitting your daughter in front of me. I couldn’t stop you, couldn’t save her. I cried for her. And I made damn sure my baby got a better life.
Thank you for following me all over town and insisting I never be alone for a minute. I know to value solitude and silence.
Thank you for shaping who I am today. I know how to help the least of these because you made me so small. I know the real meanings of compassion and empathy now. I will never thank you, it is too late. But thank you.
Never Too Late