forgiving "la chiquita"

Growing up I was "la chiquita," the little one, the baby. You would think I would have been spoiled and surrounded with attention. But with four kids and eight mouths to feed, things didn't quite turn out in my favor. My dad went straight to the TV when he cam home, my mother to the kitchen. Family time happened during dinner and sitting around the TV watching novelas (Mexican soap operas). One-on-one time was nonexistent. To top it off, I was bullied at home by my older siblings to the point that I proclaimed that I was adopted because I couldn't accept that my own flesh and blood could be so cruel.

Inevitably, I internalized all the negative messages I was hearing. I was too skinny, too short, annoying, dumb, a whitewashed gringa because my Spanish wasn't good enough, I was too dark to be pretty, I was a "volada" (attention seeker w/ a sexual connotation), a "canchada" (all over everybody), the list goes on and on. The point is I never felt good enough.

The only person who made me feel "good enough" was my uncle. He made me feel special, showered me with attention, and was always giving me compliments. He also stuck his hands inside my shirt and under my pants as he did it, but it was attention nonetheless. And I liked it. I was scared and it didn't feel right when he did it, but he was my uncle and I liked him. I trusted him. Besides, thinking it was sexual was my own dirty mind at work, right?

I blamed myself all this time. I blamed myself for not stopping it, for not telling, for liking the attention. But it was not my fault. I was a child and he the adult. I was a child. Yet I still blame myself. I'm still uber-critical of myself. I still constantly feel guilty about everything.

My therapist told me that I need to forgive not just myself, but my childhood self, "la chiquita." I need to talk to her, forgive her, and love her, so that I can give her peace and let her go.

So, here I am trying to forgive la chiquita.