I gently closed my eyes,
Took a deep breath,
And asked my inner child if she wanted to spend some time with me today.
As I imagined us sitting in my childhood room on the end of her bed,
She seemed a bit shy.
I wasn't sure if she even wanted to talk to me.
So I asked her how she was doing,
And she immediately started to cry,
And I could see her.
I could see this small,
Scared version of myself.
As if I was seeing her for the first time.
She felt so alone.
And so I asked her to tell me about it.
I asked her to describe to me how she was feeling.
I reminded her that she was safe,
That she was loved,
And that I was there for her.
Before I knew it,
She was scooting in close to me and allowed me to wrap my arms around her.
Together,
We cried.
We felt it all.
The strength she thought she had to hold on to.
The strength that had become her entire persona.
I took it from her and said,
This was never yours to carry.
I reminded her that she's just a child.
She's meant to lean on others.
She deserves that safety,
That connection,
And validation.
It was never her burden to bear.
I let her be soft.
I let her feel.
And for the first time in her life,
She had someone capable of holding safe space for her,
Willing to sit with her,
Not to fix it,
But to feel it.
And as we wrapped up our time together,
I gave her one last hug,
Reminded her how proud I am of her and all that she's had to endure,
And told her I'd be back soon.
