Honoring Your Inner Child

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Yesterday I was gloating about making a milestone on my weight loss on my personal Facebook account, and a sweet lady that I know posted the following message –

“…How are you going to reward your inner child? Treat her kindly, she must be very special.”

I was touched by this simple message. There was something about it that stuck with me. While I was, as always, moved by the positivity and support from people I love and care about – this specific message echoed in my head. I knew, and know that I am overthinking it – it is my nature to do so – but still… The woman who said this couldn’t have known what my childhood was like; I only met her a year or so ago. Was she aware that this specific thing would ring true to me? That it would be very meaningful to me? Of course not. In the spirit of over-examining things, let’s figure out exactly what the Inner Child is and maybe I can figure out from there why this message meant so much to me.

Inner Child is a term that I’ve heard tossed around a lot; especially since entering treatment for depression (and other things) at the age of 15. I can remember hearing about my Inner Child when I was a teenager – pretty much still a child myself. So what is your Inner Child, exactly? Merriam Webster defines the inner child as follows, “…the childlike usually hidden part of a person's personality that is characterized by playfulness, spontaneity, and creativity usually accompanied by anger, hurt, and fear attributable to childhood experiences”.

This is an acceptable definition for me. While there was much in my childhood that was great, there was also trauma and pain, as I have mentioned time and again in this blog. I think that most people have a difficult childhood to some degree – and that difficulty is subjective. My pain is not equivalent to another’s pain and so forth. It is sometimes hard for me to remember that I am not the only person in the world that was heavily molested as a child, and indeed there are people who have been through worse; things that I could not even imagine. “Anna” may have witnessed the death of her pet cat when she was young and feel that it has traumatized her. I cannot compare my trauma to hers and attempt to invalidate it; it is not fair and it is not rational.

The point in this is that I think most people clutch to some pain, some trauma from their childhood and that this discussion applies to everyone – not just molestation and rape survivors; people whose parents divorced; whose sibling or grandparent died; who were bullied… all of these people and more have a place in this discussion. If you buy into the idea of a metaphorical Inner Child, you have one. In theory, we all have them as we have all been a child at some point who experienced things.

So I asked myself the same question my Facebook friend asked me – How am I going to reward my inner child? How does one reward a metaphorical thing? Well, this metaphorical thing is a part of me, is it not? So I suppose I reward her by rewarding myself – but there has to be more to it than that. If I reward myself by buying a new videogame, is that rewarding her? Perhaps in a way. Every inch of my being loves video games, and that includes her I suppose. But that feels superficial. I don’t think that I can truly reward my inner child with things that can be bought – I don’t think that’s what she needs.

And so I decided to do something that I had always scoffed at in my various therapies – try guided meditation. Stay with me, here! Because I know what you are thinking – new-aged hippie bullshit. Perhaps. Just hear me out.

I did quite a bit of Googling and other various research, and I finally came to a free guided meditation to help heal your Inner Child. It’s on Youtube. /shrug. I mean, I learn how to cook, make crafty stuff, and do my makeup on Youtube – why not deep therapy? This is said with full sarcasm that I am sure does not translate well. Despite my doubt of it all, I gave it a try with an open mind.

I followed the spoken instructions. I plugged in my earbuds, laid on my back, closed my eyes and listened to the speaker’s soothing, accented voice. I am not 100% sure what his accent is, and I won’t embarrass myself by taking a guess, but you know us Americans – if you want to add validity to anything just have a person with an accent sell it and we are (typically) on board. I pushed past the part of me that was screaming that this was so very suburban and cheesy.

I kept an open mind and just… followed instructions. After a few moments of deep breaths and piano music something amazing happened – my imagination took over. I was to picture myself, as a child. I could see her. I could see me. Not an idealized version of me – the real me. Too-chubby cheeked, round belly, awkward haircut, homemade clothes… but I was beautiful. I was not beautiful in a child pageant way, I was beautiful in a way far more important than that. I was pure. My name actually means purity – and I was that. I was innocent; I was just… good. I loved everything and everyone, sometimes to the detriment of myself.

Face to face with my inner child, what would she say? Would she be angry at me for some reason? Would she express her grief and terror? Sadness? Disappointment? To my relief, no – she did not. I realized then that what was done to me did not spoil me. Even after I was raped the first time at seven or eight years old I was still pure. I was still good. I was not a package of ground meat in the market that suddenly expired, nor an action figure that had been taken out of the box and suddenly lost all value. I was still me.

She was smiling at me in a knowing way; in a wise way – as if she was in on some cosmic joke that I was not. At some point the voice on my earbuds suggested that I hug my inner child. In my mind, she opened her arms to me and I nearly fell into them. If this were real, I am pretty sure I would have hurt her from hugging her so tight. I was sobbing – not just in my mind – in real life. I was ugly crying. I finished my meditation and laid there in my bed for a while, still crying. I realized that I blamed everything in my life on that first moment – that first betrayal. I gave it so much power – and indeed it did have power. It changed me; it scarred me – but it did not lessen me as a person. It did not stunt my potential. I will not let it be what defines me as a person.

I hope that, whatever terrible thing has happened to you in the past that you dwell on; whatever it is that you blame for your perceived faults and weaknesses, can be overcome by you. This one adventure into the land of guided meditation will not heal all wounds. I am not all better now – but I gained insight and maybe a little bit of self-love – and that is the best gift or reward that I could ever give my Inner Child.

If you’d like to give a look at the video that made me break down and sob like a fool, you can do that here. As always, thanks for reading!