So often, the struggles we face in our adult lives—feelings of unworthiness, fear of abandonment, or the constant drive to prove ourselves—can be traced back to early wounds carried by our inner child. This tender part of us, formed during our most impressionable years, holds not only our earliest memories but also our unmet needs, heartbreaks, and innocent hopes. And while we may have learned to silence or suppress this inner voice, it continues to shape how we show up—in our relationships, in our work, and in the way we care for ourselves.
To truly heal, we must reconnect with this sacred part of who we are. Not to dwell in pain, but to witness it. The inner child doesn’t need us to be perfect—they need us to be present. When we finally offer them a safe space to be seen and heard, healing begins to ripple outward—not just in our hearts, but through our energy, our decisions, and our capacity to love.
Re-parenting ourselves is an act of profound love. It means becoming the soothing voice we never heard, the nurturing presence we may not have received, and the gentle guide we always longed for. It invites softness where there was once harshness, and compassion where there was once shame. And over time, we begin to rewrite the inner narrative—from “I’m not enough” to “I am deeply lovable, just as I am.”
The Healing Spiral: Each Step Is Sacred
When we begin tending to the wounds of our inner child, we often discover that healing isn’t a straight line—it’s a spiral. Old patterns may resurface, not as failures, but as invitations. Each time we feel triggered, reactive, or unworthy, it’s not a sign that we’re broken—it’s our inner child raising their hand, whispering, “I’m still here. Will you choose me now?” These moments are sacred checkpoints, offering us the chance to pause and respond with love instead of judgment.
The Smallest Acts Are Often the Most Transformative
What’s remarkable is that we don’t need grand rituals or decades of therapy to begin. Sometimes healing looks like wrapping yourself in a blanket and saying, “I’ve got you now.” It might be choosing rest over hustle, tears over suppression, truth over silence. These seemingly small choices become bricks in the foundation of self-trust. And when we make room for our inner child to feel safe, that safety ripples outward—into our relationships, our creative expression, and even our nervous systems.
You’re Not Falling Apart — You’re Remembering
So if today brings up grief, or longing, or even numbness, know this: your tenderness is not a weakness—it’s wisdom. You are not regressing; you are remembering. You are not falling apart; you are making space for a part of you that was long exiled. This is the quiet revolution of healing. And it begins, again and again, with love.
My Inner Child’s Awakening: A Personal Story
When I first began to awaken in 1995, I did what so many of us do—I turned to books. I devoured every self-help title I could find, flipping pages late into the night, hoping to find myself in the words. Eventually, those books led me deeper into spiritual teachings, where I began to sense that the healing I sought wasn’t just about fixing what felt broken—it was about remembering what had been buried.
One book that cracked me wide open was The Journey by Brandon Bays. As I read about her inner work and the raw experiences she faced on her healing path, tears streamed down my face. Something in me stirred. I didn’t have the language for it at the time, but I now know it was my inner child—stirring awake, whispering, “This is for us.” Not long after, I was offered a chance to attend a weekend workshop based on her work. I had no idea what to expect, but I said yes.
There was one exercise from that weekend that changed me forever. It was so simple, yet so profound. We paired up and sat side-by-side in our chairs, facing opposite directions. One person would lean in and whisper affirmations, starting each one with: “You are…” For five, maybe ten minutes, I sat in stillness as someone gently poured words of love into my ear: “You are the sunshine on a warm day.” “You are as vast as the ocean.” “You are as amazing as the most beautiful sunset.” “You are a flower blooming with strength and love.” “You are love. You are peace. You are amazing.”
At first, I wanted to squirm away. It felt foreign to receive so much tenderness without earning it. But as the minutes passed, something softened. I could feel my inner child listening—cautiously at first, then fully. And then, like a hush settling over a crowded room, I heard the quietest voice from within: “It’s true.” That was the beginning of a powerful shift. Not overnight. Not all at once. But it planted a seed of truth in me—one I continue to nurture today.
A Gentle Invitation for the Week Ahead
This week, I invite you to begin your own inner child healing with tenderness. You don’t need to fix everything. You don’t need to know all the answers. Just start with one moment of connection: a kind word, a gentle breath, a memory held with softness instead of shame.
The inner child is never far—they live in the way your heart tugs at poetry, in the tears that rise without explanation, in your longing to be loved without condition.
And they are always listening.
Keep choosing love, especially for yourself.
Sue
