I'm learning to accept the parts of me that are broken. The parts of me that are small, the parts of me that are frightened, the parts of me that have cried out for so long to be understood. I thought for the longest time that being broken made me less than worthy, made me a disaster of a human. But for me, being broken in pieces and fragmented is what saved my life. I owe these parts of me everything. They made it so I could enjoy childhood without having to relive the trauma constantly. They made it so I can have peace to a certain degree with the realities of what has happened to me (sexual, physical, and emotional abuse since age one). And as hard as it is to deal with most times, I owe them my life.
I have a part of me who is beautiful little girl, who loves to dance. I have a part of me who's a mother to a child, and seeing her express that parental guidance to me, my friends, and everyone she meets is beautiful. I have a demon who went through hell and back for me, who loves me more than anything, even if his love is often misguided. I have parts of me who hold unspeakable memories and feelings, and I can never thank them enough for carrying that burden for me. I sometimes say that the parts of me who were born from trauma have ruined my life, but honestly if they didn't exist I wouldn't be living right now. Most people don't get to interact with their child self, and even knowing the reasons behind why she still exists, I'm glad I get to hear her laugh, and get to watch her finally experience safety for the first time in our lives. I owe my parts everything.