When You Parent Your Inner Child You’ll Find Yourself

I found myself today. The part of me that I’ve been fighting. The part of me that I’ve been telling she wasn’t good enough.

I found her in a field playing. She smiled at me knowingly but returned intently to her puzzle. The sun heated my face. My body felt familiar here.

I studied her smooth hazelnut, blemish-free face; missing teeth, and ominous brown eyes in a simple yellow dress.

I moved a little closer, but she didn’t acknowledge me.

“I’m sorry, I said faintly, “ I just wanted to tell you that it’s safe to be who you are. I’m not going to stop you anymore. I’m not going to hold you back”.

She replied, “but you never listen to me”.

She was right, so many people shut her out. She turned to me for safety, but I wasn’t there. I focused on everyone's needs except hers.

I didn’t know that she was just a child. Seeing her now I understood, she acted like a grown-up but was not.

I needed to reassure her when she told me she was scared of that boy, or when she was frustrated that she couldn’t solve the puzzle of life. I needed to speak to her with compassion when she made mistakes or was uncertain.

I realized that she ruled me. She sometimes threw tantrums and I let her. I never taught her to express her frustration using her words instead of beating cracked fists on the floor. I never taught her that she couldn’t watch TV all day, that she couldn’t hang around friends that were bad for her, even though she really really liked them.

She was stubborn, resilient, and full of fire like I knew she would be. I would be stern but loving. I would be compassionate and patient, but I was in charge now. I wouldn’t let her pretend to be an adult anymore.

I am the adult, and I’ll leave her to be the child, playful and carefree.

I had lost her trust, I wasn’t going to rush her. I was going to show her day by day that I would hear her voice. I would listen to her needs. I would endure her resistance and I would be a parent to her once more.

She is the hidden part of me.

She is the part that went unseen and silent. I will bring her to life once more.

I will bring her back to myself, and together we will be whole.

— Arlene Mauarica Ambrose