Dear Inner Child, I See You

There is a small, soft voice within me—a whisper beneath the noise, a flicker in the dark. I hear it when the world grows too loud, when my heart aches in ways I cannot name. It is you, my inner child, the part of me that once danced without fear, wept without shame, and believed in magic before I was told not to.

I have left you behind so many times. Buried you beneath the weight of growing up, the expectations, the disappointments, the unspoken grief. I told myself I had to be strong, had to be practical, had to be anything but soft. But you never left. You have been waiting, patiently, hoping I would turn around and say, I see you. I hear you. I am here now.

The Wounds I Carry

You remember everything, don’t you? The way the world felt too big, too sharp. The way love sometimes felt like a prize I had to earn. You remember the words that cut deep, the silences that spoke louder than any scream. I may have forgotten, but my body has not. My heart still carries the echoes of those old fears, my hands still tremble under the weight of unspoken apologies.

But those stories were never yours to carry. Those wounds are not truths. And wounds, when held with tenderness, can heal.

Reaching Back in Time

If I could hold you now—my small, wide-eyed self—what would I say? If I could sit beside you on the floor, tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, wipe away the tears you were too scared to let fall, what words would I offer?

I would tell you that you are enough. That you never had to shrink yourself to be worthy. That love is not a test, and your feelings were always meant to take up space. I would tell you that the world is not always kind, but you do not have to carry its unkindness as your own.

And I tell you now—You are safe with me. I will listen. I will not leave you behind again.

Reparenting My Heart

I am learning to care for you the way you always needed. I am learning to speak softly, where once there was only criticism. To let myself rest, where once there was only urgency. To sit with my feelings, instead of pushing them away.

I give myself permission to play, to daydream, to delight in the things that make no sense. To be silly, to be soft, to be whole. To be the love you always longed for.

This is what healing looks like—it is a slow unraveling, a gentle homecoming.

Embracing the Child Within

Do you remember what made you happy? The way your heart raced before the first snowfall, the way your fingers itched to scribble stories in the margins of your schoolbooks. The thrill of running barefoot in the grass, the magic of watching the clouds shift into stories only you could see.

I remember now. And I promise, I will let us feel that joy again.

So I buy the crayons. I dance in the living room. I watch the cartoons, I reread the books, I let myself be young in ways I was too afraid to be before. Because you are still here, waiting, hoping. And you deserve to be seen.

Forgiving the Past

Some things still hurt. Some things may always hurt. But I am learning that forgiveness is not saying it didn’t matter. It is saying, it mattered, and I will not let it define me.

I release what was never mine to hold. The guilt, the shame, the heavy, heavy weight of trying to be someone else’s version of good enough.

I was always enough. I am enough now.

Coming Home to Myself

To the child within me: I see you. I know you have felt lost, forgotten. I know you have tried so hard to be brave, to be small, to be unnoticeable. But you were never meant to disappear.

So I hold my own hand now. I wrap myself in love, in patience, in kindness. I whisper to the mirror, You are safe. You are loved. You are home.

And at last, I feel you reach back.

At last, we begin to heal.