Dorie… this one hit with the kind of quiet force that makes a person stop mid-scroll and just breathe. The honesty here—raw, unshielded—felt like stepping into a room where someone finally let the truth sit without rearranging it to be easier.
You wrote every line with such courage. The child you described, the way she reached for love and was met with harm… it stayed with me. And the way you let adult-you speak back through that ache felt painfully human, and deeply brave.
There’s nothing in your story that sounds like “deserving.” It sounds like someone who survived what she should never have been asked to endure, and is still trying to piece tenderness together in a world that didn’t give her enough of it.
Your voice is strong in this, even through the hurt. I’m glad you shared it. It matters.
Oh, Dorie… I want to wrap you in the warmest, most loving hug.
This isn’t poetry, it’s a wound speaking its own language. And I felt every line. The shame handed to you was never yours to carry. You did not “choose” harm; you survived it. That matters.
I’m here with you, holding so much love and tenderness for the girl you were and the woman you’ve become.
It's not your fault!
Be kind to yourself 💕this was a beautiful read even with the anger.
Thank you very much.
Fuck the adults who didn't protect you. I'm sorry.
You make regret sounds so beautiful
You have to reframe the worst things to survive them. 🩷
Beautiful and brave
This reads like truth spoken without armour, Dorie.
The way you let regret, blame, and memory sit on the page
… without rescuing them …
is powerful and hard to do.
Thank you for trusting this brilliant poem with what it carries.
Dorie… this one hit with the kind of quiet force that makes a person stop mid-scroll and just breathe. The honesty here—raw, unshielded—felt like stepping into a room where someone finally let the truth sit without rearranging it to be easier.
You wrote every line with such courage. The child you described, the way she reached for love and was met with harm… it stayed with me. And the way you let adult-you speak back through that ache felt painfully human, and deeply brave.
There’s nothing in your story that sounds like “deserving.” It sounds like someone who survived what she should never have been asked to endure, and is still trying to piece tenderness together in a world that didn’t give her enough of it.
Your voice is strong in this, even through the hurt. I’m glad you shared it. It matters.
Oh, Dorie… I want to wrap you in the warmest, most loving hug.
This isn’t poetry, it’s a wound speaking its own language. And I felt every line. The shame handed to you was never yours to carry. You did not “choose” harm; you survived it. That matters.
I’m here with you, holding so much love and tenderness for the girl you were and the woman you’ve become.