A First-Hand Account of the Power of Inner Child Work
I'm going to start this post with a story.
I liken it to my self-love 'origin' story, at least in the sense that it may have been the first time I really understood that I was (a) responsible for my own growth and (b) capable of achieving it. At the end of this story, I'm going to offer a tool that you can try at home. With any luck, you will achieve a similar feeling of enlightenment, love, and self-forgiveness that I did.
When I was in my mid-20s, I came to a shocking revelation: whenever I'd look back on photos of myself as a kid/tween/adolescent, I'd cringe.
I was in the midst of going through a box of old keepsakes, trying to sort what was worth keeping or not. As I flipped through the photos, I felt the embarrassment start to spin through the pit of my stomach. I tossed the photos aside. I didn't want to throw them out, but I couldn't bring myself to look at them without complete and utter disgust. It was a weird sensation.
Before that day, I'd never thought back to my younger self with any tangible negativity. I always thought I looked back on my past-self in pretty high regard. But as I thought about it more deeply, I recognized that the part of myself I cast in a bright light was always my mental self (i.e. "I was a smart, creative kid."). I'd rarely given my physical or emotional self the limelight, if I thought about her at all. And the physical, in particular, I'd think back to critically, especially that 'awkward' stage, which seemed to last forever.
So, like any well-meaning person hooked on self-development, I brought the issue to my therapist at the time. When I told her my whole, "I cringe when I look at myself" story, she just stared at me. The sadness I saw forming in her face moved through me like a wave. "Wow," I thought, "I am a monster." I wasn't a monster, obviously. (Hi, ego, showing yourself as shame!) I'd just never realized that this THING I'd felt while rifling through photographs was masking an enormous amount of untouched pain.
Quick cut to 13 years earlier:
I was 11 years old, in middle school, and I'd had a dream. In it, I was in gym class. A young girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old, approached me. She looked a little like me. I shoo'd her away. This hurt her feelings. She didn't speak, but she kept returning to me, like a little beggar, cupping her hands and holding them up to me as if to prove to me that they were clean. This made me uncomfortable. I told her to go away. She wouldn't leave, desperate for my approval, even as I got angrier and angrier. This sad little girl, so determined to prove her worth to me, wouldn't leave me alone.
When I woke up, I told the dream to my mother, whose expression resembled the one I'd see on my therapist's face 13 years later. "I believe that may have been your inner child," my mom said, "and for some reason you're pushing her away." This resonated with me, but seeing as I was only 11 at the time and didn't have any of the tools to deal with it, I left it alone.
Back to the therapist's office:
I was immediately instructed to return home, open all the photo albums I could get my hands on, and look that little girl in the face.
I was told to sit with my feelings, write them down, and to see what it felt like to send the girl in those photographs as much love as I could muster.
I couldn't bring myself to do it.
A few days later, I was on the phone with my friend, Lauren, explaining this conundrum. As it turns out, she had recently started attending a small, supportive women's group and they had just introduced an exercise that she thought might be useful to me. It was called 'inner child work.' I would find a quiet place to sit, conjure up a visual of my childhood self—and ask her what she was feeling without judgement. I'd listen. And then I would console her using another technique Lauren had taught me, called NVC (or non-violent communication). The gist of NVC is to recognize that feelings are merely mirrors for whether or not our needs are being met. You can use feelings as guides that point to what it is you're needing. And once you uncover what it is you need, the next step is simple: you provide it for yourself.
This I could do.
I sat down in my bedroom and pictured myself at around age 5. The girl I saw was sitting quietly, sad and alone. I asked her how she was feeling. She didn't speak, she just sat quietly, arms wrapped around her shins, head resting on her knees. "Oh my god," I thought out loud, "you feel neglected."
The flood gates opened.
we are nothing more than a sum of all our past selves.
When we experience any kind of emotional trauma, large or small, that part of ourself—the one experiencing the trauma—freezes in time. It gets energetically 'stuck.'
It weighs us down, sometimes in ways we can't even fully recognize.
In my youth, I often felt very much alone. I had wonderful friends and my family showed me warmth and love, but emotionally I had trouble connecting with anyone on an intimate level. No one could break through my wall. (Well, maybe one or two close friends got there—but otherwise, the drawbridge was up).
As a child, I was so deeply affected by the difficult emotions carried by the people closest to me—depression, a divorce, a father who lived in an entirely different country for two years of my life, a new step-parent I'd barely met, financial strain—that at some point I'd just decided to turn it off. But in turning off my receiver to all the negative emotions around me, it became hard for me to receive the good ones, either.
I was emotionally malnourished. I felt unseen, unheard, and misunderstood. I'd been walking through life as this guarded shell—who, by the way, seemed TOTALLY FINE from the outside. But I'd left the core of who I was to rot.
It was just as my dream had tried to warn about me so many years earlier: there was a part of me that was begging to be seen, but because I felt like nobody else saw her worth, I was actively turning her away, too.
So there I was, staring at this little girl version of myself in my mind's eye, and my heart just ripped open.
It would take me years to fully unpack what I just wrote here. It doesn't all come all at once. For years I found it easier to blame the people in my life, or the events that unfolded, for creating this. I never really took responsibility for my part in it. But that's okay.
When it comes to fulfilling your needs, the 'how' and the 'why' you got to where you are really don't matter. The only thing that matters is that you see your need and send it love. The only thing that mattered in this inner child exercise was that I saw my little girl—and that she felt seen. So I walked over to the little girl in my mind's eye and I crouched down to her level. And I said (in true NVC form), "I see that you're feeling neglected. And I am so sorry that nobody's seen you or taken care of you. You deserve to be taken care of. And I want you to know that I'm here now. I'm here and I'm the adult now—I'm the one who is responsible for your well-being. And I see you. And I'll keep you safe. And I want you to be seen. Because you are so worthy." And then I held my arms open, she crawled into my lap, and I held her.
And then I cried my fucking eyes out.
Because IT WAS SO UNBELIEVABLY POWERFUL. Because offering love to someone who is hurting is a profoundly rewarding feeling—and when that person who is hurting also happens to be yourself—and not just yourself, but the CUTEST, SWEETEST version of yourself?!?! I mean it's practically an out-of-body experience.
And then guess what? I started to use this exercise more frequently. And each time I did, the little girl would look a little happier, a little more trusting, a little more loving.
And THEN guess what? I was able to gather the courage to flip through my photo albums again. And do you know what happened? The girl in the photographs CHANGED.
The photo above is one of the photos that used to rattle me the most. When I used to see this photo, I would have a visceral reaction deep in my gut. It was disgust. All I could see was an awkward, chubby, chapped-lipped loner kid. Her pain was so real for me, I’d feel it twist inside of me. I’d want to vomit.
This felt like an embarrassing blemish on a past I wish I could have rewritten. I wanted to look back on someone else—a different version of me: one that was more joyful, more beautiful.
If I'd known that one day I'd be publishing this image ON THE INTERNET I would have burned it.
But I'm SO GLAD that I didn't. Because now all I see is a sweet, lost, little kid who was in the midst of one of the most difficult chapters of her life—trying to do her best. She was attempting to navigate who she was, completely throwing aside what she needed, but desperately craving attention and feeling so very, very invisible. I see a brave little soldier, just marching along, trying to find her beat. (Oh, and I see her chapped lips and broken-soled shoes as a reflection of her neglect—this was taken at a camp where she felt like a social pariah; unseen and unattended to.)
BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW HARD I ROCKED THAT 90s GRUNGE VIBE? I don't know what I was thinking before, because this little person is a tiny badass. The girl who I once saw as ugly, or embarrassing, or depressing, had somehow shape-shifted into a girl who JUST NEEDED LOVE. I could see it in her eyes all of a sudden—the sadness. And it broke my heart a little more, because I'd never acknowledged that for her, so I started to send her as much love as I could muster. I did my best to remind her—the piece of her still living on inside of me—that I was responsible for her now and I'd make sure she was taken care of. And little by little I started breaking down my own walls.
And then last week something even more incredible happened:
In a wild, synchronistic turn of events, I have found my way into a women's group and the experience has already been insanely gratifying. The night before our last meeting, as I was drifting off to sleep, I woke up suddenly and thought to myself, "hey, I haven't done any inner child work in a while. I've got to write about it!" So I started drafting ideas on my notepad until my brain was drained and I could sleep again. The very next day, as we started our circle, the woman hosting decided to kick-off with a guided meditation. In it, she asked us to—I shit you not—imagine our 5 year-old selves and invite them into the room. She asked us to watch them without judgement as they interacted with the other children in the room. And then she asked us to invite our little selves onto our laps and to just witness what it feels like to shower them with love.
There was a lot more to this meditation, which happened to be one of the best I'd ever experienced, but needless to say, when I opened my eyes and looked around the room, there were a lot of tears, both happy and harrowing. One woman blurted out, "I mean, can we go around the room and TALK about that? Because that was amazing." The reactions I heard were so empowering. Some women struggled to embrace their inner children. Others were swept off their feet by how much love they were able to feel for their younger selves.
BUT EVERYONE BENEFITTED. Every. Single. Person.
And me? I was just so overjoyed. Because you know what my little girl was doing? She wasn't sitting in the corner, sad and alone. She was DANCING and ENGAGING with the others and laughing. And when she came to my lap, she played with my hair and she'd throw her head back and laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more.
Seeing her so full of life made me smile directly from the heart.
How far we've come.
When I shared my story with the group—of how I was up late the night before writing about my inner child work—and how coincidental it was, and how amazing it felt that I'd made it to this point where I could just soak it in, the woman leading the meditation said, "You know what's funny? I didn't plan for that to happen—it just did, in the middle of the flow."
That's real synchronicity for you.
And it only made me want to share it with YOU more. Because I want you to bear witness to how powerful inner child work can be. For some of you it will come easily, and for others, who have stories like myself, it may be harder. It may take time. It may make you feel things. And some of those things may be sadness or guilt or pain.
But you deserve to shower your sadness and guilt and pain with love.
Be patient. Be kind.
DO IT YOURSELF:
1. Find Time & A Quiet Space
Give yourself 15 minutes if you can. Go somewhere quiet, like your bedroom, or sit quietly at your desk, in a comfortable (I like cross-legged) position.
2. Breathe
Count your breaths. Hear the breath enter your nostrils, feel it flow down the back of your throat. Feel it release as you breathe out. Do this 3-5 times.
3. Envision Your Childhood Self
Your child can be any age. 5 is a good place to start—but any age that calls to you is fine. As I started doing more of this work, I'd play with varying ages through adolescence. Whoever needs the love. But starting at age 5 is perfect. Visualize your childhood self in a place you remember.
4. Once You Have Yourself In Your Mind's Eye, Invite Your Child Into Your Space
If you were envisioning your child in a familiar memory or place, let the background go dark. Cast a spotlight on your child. Breathe. And watch. What is your child feeling? What is the expression on your child's face? Just notice. How are they playing? Are they doing anything at all?
5. Strike Up A Conversation
Be curious, not judgmental. Ask your inner child what they're feeling. And just listen. Allow your inner child to feel.
6. Discover Which Needs Your Inner Child's Feelings Point Toward
This part may take time, or multiple sessions, but I'll explain the basic framework of needs so you can pick up on what resonates:
Physiological: this is the basic need for food, shelter, water, air.
Safety: this could be physical safety, financial security, emotional safety, or health.
Belonging: this is a desire for connection, love, support, friendship, a desire to be seen.
Esteem: a need to feel respected, recognized, or accepted by others. It is the need to feel that what you have brings value.
Self-actualization: this is a need to reach your full potential. It's the need to be the best version of yourself that you can be. It's a need to feel fulfilled.
Self-transcendence: this is a need to surrender to an altruistic or spiritual endeavor.
Most people, when working with their inner children, focus on Safety, Belonging, and Esteem. These seem to resonate most, but of course we are all different and if there's another need that resonates deeply with your inner child, explore it.
7. Without Passing Blame, Feed The Need
If you have located a need that has not been met for your inner child, try to stay in the mindset of compassion. It's easy to let the mind wander into how or why something has come to be, but that's not what's important in this exercise. What's important is that you tell your child you see their need—and then you offer to feed it with love. If the need is for safety, let them know that YOU are in charge of their safety now and YOU will make sure they are safe. Same goes for any of the needs. Is your child needing to feel valued? Tell them that YOU are in charge of offering value and YOU are giving it to them.
8. If You Haven't Already, Invite Your Inner Child Into Your Arms
Hold that child and envision your aura as a glowing white light. Wrap yourself and your inner child in that light as you offer as much love as you can muster. Honor that child, honor yourself.
9. Stay There For As Long As You Need
When you're ready to wake up, draw your attention back to your breath and your physical body—your fingers, your toes. Allow your child to stay with you as you open your eyes.