Little Me

When I was in college studying psychology I heard the term “inner child” here and there, but not often. It seemed to pop up only when we were discussing the more touchy-feely aspects of therapy and psychoanalysis.

I thought it was a bunch of psycho-babble buzzword bullshit, to be frank.

But as I progressed in my journey of coming to know myself and face my own past, the wounds, the pain, and everything else related to my being molested as a kid, the concept of “inner child” became a startling reality instead of a pile of buzzword crap.

As I opened to myself, you see, I discovered that she was there. Little me. That’s what I call her, not my inner child. She’s little me and I slowly realized that part of me had always been aware of her – no matter how numb I’d become to my feelings, no matter how much pain I was in or what I did to run from it, I’d always been aware of her presence. Because I wasn’t shocked to find her at all.

At first, when I was facing the pain of the past and trying to work through that, the practice of going to see her was full of desperate thoughts and emotions. She was in a dark room deep inside me, chained to the wall, with only one small window that let in some watery, weak light. She was cold and damp. She was full of so much darkness – such deep sadness, such fiery rage, such searing hurt.

And loneliness.

Absolutely crushing, heart-rending loneliness.

Although I was about 8 when I was molested, Little Me doesn’t look like me at 8. In my third eye, Little Me looks like a photo of me taken when I was about 4. White dress with a bib kind of like a sailor’s suit, outlined in red piping. White-blond cornsilk hair. Big blue eyes that are far too serious. Flawless skin. Fingers that are still chubby with baby-hood. A sweet little voice. Scraped up knees from playing with her brother and cousins.

She is quiet – she doesn’t talk a lot, but when she does it’s a sweet, clear voice like a small bell. She loves, loves, LOVES to be held, and one of the first things I did when I was healing the past was to hold her on my lap the way you do a small child. I begin to cry just writing this down, the emotional memory of it all is still fresh. Her connection to me and mine to her is extraordinarily … emotional.

When I gathered Little Me on my lap and we hugged for the first time during my healing of the past, I began to cry with a force that astounded me. I sobbed so hard I thought I might break apart from the inside out. When I felt her rage as she sat there on my lap, I felt like the earth would suddenly erupt into flames – and yet here she was, this picture perfect little girl from an old commercial or something…..

Anyway. I promised her that she would never again go back to that cold, damp, lonely room with the lone window. I promised her that she would come out with me and live with me in freedom now that she and I were reconnected. We apologized to each other for things that really didn’t need apology, but it was necessary to say the words in order to find the healing between us. We held hands and cried and cried. We looked into one another’s eyes and smiled.

And I feel her inside when I feel playful, when I feel joy, when I feel purity and reverence. When things are simple, when I am most connected with people on a heart level – it’s her they’re seeing, not the current 40-year-old-me. When I say “I love you,” the person to whom I’m saying those words is hearing it from both of us.

Lately, as I continue to expand from the heart and soul and try to remake my life into something that is truly mine and full of my passion and desire, I feel her closer than ever before. And I realize now that when I let her be my co-pilot, I make the decisions that satisfy me most – the choices that really make me feel fulfilled, the ones that bring me joy, that express my most authentic self.

Recently I watched one of Matt Kahn’s videos wherein he talks about the inner child at length. And he says exactly what I’ve just explained, about letting the inner child be co-pilot. In order to do this, we have to heal the wounds we’ve inflicted upon and suffered as the inner child, but once this healing and reconciliation takes place, the soul opens up like never before.

In the Bible, God invites us to come to Him as little children. I believe that this inner child is in all of us, and it is this entity within our souls that God was talking about when He calls us to come to Him this way. I believe now more than ever that Little Me is the best, brightest part of my soul. She’s something of a guardian to that mystical gateway inside me that’s connected to the divine.

This is the part of me that Jamie never broke. She was locked away for decades, she suffered incredible amounts of pain, but the purity and clarity of who she is as a creation of God was never marred. Never tainted. Never touched.

She’s the survivor in me, the real strength that led me on my healing journey. She’s the part of me that can never be broken by anything that I endure or experience in this life on this planet. She’s the part of me that aches and throbs in love and compassion when I meet the wound in another person.

But she needs attention and love like any other creation of God’s.

So my intention going forward is to bring her closer, and to continue having her as my co-pilot. My intuition tells me that she’s necessary to make the kind of life I want to make, and more than that – I love her. I love her so much I can’t verbalize or even contain it within my body.

I want to say she feeds my faith and my connection to the divine as I feed her love. That’s what my gut says.

She’s gorgeous, my Little Me.