Take a comfortable position.
And allow your body to settle.
Close your eyes if that feels comfortable.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in.
And slowly let go.
Again,
Breathe in.
And exhale.
And one more time,
Deep breath in.
And release.
For the next little while,
You don't have to be strong.
You don't have to forgive anyone.
You don't have to make sense of what happened.
You are simply giving yourself permission to acknowledge something that may have been painful for a very long time.
The experience of not having the father that you needed.
Maybe he wasn't there physically.
Maybe he was emotionally unavailable.
Maybe he left.
Maybe he died?
Maybe he was present,
But you still felt completely alone.
Maybe you knew him,
But never really felt protected by him.
Whatever your story is,
You don't have to minimize it.
You don't have to compare your experience to anyone else's.
If something was missing.
You are allowed to acknowledge that it mattered.
Take a deep breath in.
And exhale.
And allow yourself to be here.
Imagine yourself standing in a peaceful place.
Perhaps it is somewhere in nature.
Perhaps it's a garden.
A quiet beach.
A forest,
Or somewhere you've never been before.
Look around and notice the colors.
The light,
The temperature of the air.
And somewhere in this place.
You see a little girl.
She may be very young.
Or she may be an older version of yourself.
Take a moment to notice her.
Look at her face.
Look at her body language.
Notice how she's standing.
And when you realize who she is,
You understand.
This is you.
A younger version of you.
The little girl who experienced the absence.
The inconsistency.
The disappointment.
The questions.
To longing.
Perhaps she wondered,
Why doesn't he want me?
Why isn't he here?
What did I do wrong?
Why do other girls have something that I don't?
Who is supposed to protect me?
Who is supposed to tell me that I am enough?
Don't rush her.
Just stand near her.
And let her know that you see her.
Now walk toward her slowly and sit beside her.
And say to her,
You don't have to pretend with me.
You can tell me the truth.
You can tell me what you wished you had.
And give her time.
Maybe she wants to talk.
Maybe she cries.
Maybe she's angry.
Maybe she says nothing.
Whatever happens.
Let it happen.
And if she says.
I wanted my dad.
Let her say it.
If she says,
I wanted him to choose me,
Let her say it.
If she says,
I wanted someone to protect me.
Let her say it.
If she says,
I wanted someone to tell me I was beautiful.
Let her say it.
If she says.
I wanted someone to be proud of me.
Let her say it.
If she says.
I wanted someone to stay.
Let her say it.
You don't have to tell her that she shouldn't have wanted those things because she was allowed to want them.
Every child deserves to feel wanted.
To feel seen.
Every child deserves safety.
Every child deserves to know.
You matter.
Now look into her eyes.
And tell her something she may have needed to hear many years ago.
None of this was because you weren't good enough.
His absence was not a measurement of your worth.
His limitations were not a reflection of your value.
You did not fail him.
You did not cause this.
And now say to her,
You are a child.
You are supposed to be cared for.
You were supposed to be protected.
You are supposed to be loved.
And give a moment for those words to settle.
Because sometimes the deepest wound isn't simply that someone wasn't there.
It's the meaning that we created from their absence.
Such as,
Maybe I wasn't worth staying for.
Maybe I'm not lovable.
Maybe I have to work harder to make people stay.
Maybe I have to be perfect.
Maybe I have to earn love.
And now,
Gently place your hand over your heart and tell her.
We don't believe that anymore.
Now imagine that in front of you is a small,
Empty chair.
This chair represents everything that you didn't receive.
The conversations.
The encouragement,
The protection.
The guidance.
The affection.
The feeling of being someone's little girl.
The feeling that someone was standing behind you saying,
I've got you.
Look at that empty chair and allow yourself to grieve.
You don't need to make the grief smaller and you don't need to rush past it.
If tears come,
Let them come.
If anger comes,
Let it move through you.
If sadness comes.
Let yourself feel it.
Because sometimes healing doesn't begin by getting over the pain.
It begins by finally allowing yourself to admit,
Yes,
This hurt.
Yes,
I needed something I didn't receive.
Yes,
It mattered.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in.
And let yourself feel whatever is true for you.
Now something changes.
You look toward the younger girl and realize something.
She is no longer alone.
Because you are here.
The woman you are today is standing beside her.
You survived what she couldn't understand.
You developed strengths she couldn't yet see.
You've learned things that she couldn't have known.
And now you can begin giving her something she desperately needed.
Protection.
Place your hand gently on her shoulder.
And say,
I am here now.
I won't abandon you.
I will listen to you.
I will protect your boundaries.
I will pay attention when something doesn't feel right.
I will stop asking you to accept what hurts you just so someone else will stay.
You don't have to earn love anymore.
You don't have to perform for love.
You don't have to become smaller for love.
You don't have to chase people for love.
You don't have to prove that you're worthy of being chosen.
And now look into her eyes.
And say,
I choose you.
I choose you.
I choose you.
Now imagine the two of you standing together.
And notice something about this younger girl.
She has strength.
Not because she should have had to be strong,
But because she made it through.
She adapted.
She learned.
She survived.
And now you can begin to transform that survival energy into something different.
Not hyper-independence.
Not the belief that you need nobody.
Not constantly being the strong one.
But inner strength.
The kind of strength that says,
I can ask for help.
I can walk away from what hurts me.
I can trust my instincts.
I can choose people who show up.
I can protect my peace.
I can care for myself.
I can let myself be vulnerable with safe people.
I can receive.
I can rest.
I don't have to do everything alone.
Take a deep breath in.
And exhale.
Because there is an enormous difference between,
I don't need anyone and I don't need you.
I can survive without abandoning myself.
You don't have to become someone who needs nothing.
You get to become someone who knows what she needs and knows that her needs matter.
Now imagine a warm,
Steady light appearing behind you.
This isn't a replacement for the father you wished you had.
It isn't pretending that his absence didn't matter.
It represents the qualities that you needed from a safe father figure.
Protection,
Stability.
Encouragement.
Wisdom.
Steadiness.
Guidance.
Strength.
Let those qualities begin to surround you.
Feel what protection feels like.
Not someone controlling you.
Or deciding your life for you.
But a deep inner knowing.
I have my own back.
I can create safety for myself.
I can listen to my own wisdom.
I can handle difficult moments without turning against myself.
I am proud.
Of the person I am becoming.
Let those qualities move into your body.
Into your chest.
Your spine.
Your shoulders.
Your belly.
Your legs.
Let yourself feel grounded.
Supported.
Steady.
Now imagine all of the places where you may have searched for the father you didn't have.
In romantic relationships.
And friendships.
In authority figures.
In people you desperately wanted to impress.
And people whose approval felt unusually important.
Perhaps you've spent parts of your life trying to finally experience Choose me.
See me.
Be proud of me.
Stay.
Tell me that I'm enough.
And there is no shame in that.
You were looking for something that you needed.
But now,
Place your hands over your heart and say,
I understand why I searched.
I understand why I wanted to be chosen.
I understand why approval mattered so much.
And I released myself from having to find my father in other people.
Take a deep breath in.
And exhale.
I no longer need to turn every relationship into a test of whether I'm worthy.
I no longer need someone else's attention to prove that I matter.
I no longer need someone else's presence to prove that I am lovable.
I can choose relationships because they are healthy.
And not because they recreate an old wound.
Now imagine your younger self standing beside you.
And take her hand.
And begin walking forward together.
Notice that she doesn't have to walk behind you.
She doesn't have to be left behind.
She walks with you.
And as you walk,
Tell her.
We don't have to wait anymore.
We don't have to wonder anymore.
We don't have to spend our lives asking why.
We are allowed to build something beautiful from here.
Keep walking together.
And notice that with every step,
You become more solid.
More grounded.
More certain.
More connected to yourself.
You are not defined by who stayed.
You are not defined by who left.
You are not defined by who failed to show up.
Your worth existed before anyone could recognize it.
And it remains.
Now turn toward your younger self.
Kneel down so that you're at their level.
Look directly into our eyes and make a promise.
I promise I will not abandon myself.
I promise I will listen when you are hurting.
I promise I will protect what matters to us.
I promise I will stop chasing people who cannot meet me.
I promise I will stop confusing suffering with love.
I promise I will allow safe people to love us.
And finally,
I promise I will build a life in which you feel wanted.
Valued,
And safe.
Now imagine your younger self beginning to glow with a soft light.
The light moves from her heart.
Into yours.
You don't need to leave her behind.
You are bringing her with you.
Her sensitivity,
Or dreams.
Her innocence.
Her courage.
Her ability to love.
And everything she survived.
You are no longer looking at her as the little girl who was abandoned.
You are looking at her as the little girl who deserved love.
And grew into the woman who can now give herself that love.
Let the two of you merge into one.
Feel yourself becoming whole.
Take a deep breath in and say,
I am not missing something that makes me less.
I am not incomplete.
I am not unlovable.
I am not waiting for someone else to give me permission to feel worthy.
I choose myself.
I protect myself.
I love myself.
Now slowly allow the visualization to fade.
Bring your awareness back into the room.
Feel your body.
Feel the surface beneath you.
Notice your breath.
Take a slow breath in.
And release.
You may still feel sadness.
You may still wish things had been different,
And that's okay.
Healing doesn't mean pretending you didn't need your father.
It means no longer allowing his absence to define your relationship with yourself.
You can grieve what you didn't receive.
While becoming the person who gives herself something different now.
You can miss what should have been without spending the rest of your life trying to make someone else fill the empty chair.
You can acknowledge the wound without building your identity around it.
And you can become strong without having to become hard.
Take one final deep breath in.
Say,
I am here.
I am enough.
I choose myself.
Whenever you're ready,
You can open your eyes.
Take your time.
You don't have to rush back.
Because the little girl who once wondered whether someone would stay has finally discovered something important.
She has someone who will stay.
She has herself.
