Healing My Inner Child

I remember it so clearly—one of my first couple therapy session in college. I was sitting across from my therapist, spilling out all the horrible things I thought about myself, absolutely tearing myself apart. Then she stopped me. She asked, “If you had a five-year-old version of yourself sitting next to you, would you say those things to her?”

I froze. Of course, I wouldn’t say those things to a child. But here I was, saying them to myself. We didn’t spend much time on the inner child concept. Honestly, most of the time, she was just focused on getting me to open up and actually talk about my feelings. There were plenty of uncomfortable silences because half the time, I’d freeze up and couldn’t think of a single intelligent thought.

Fast forward 12 years, and I’m sitting in a different therapist’s office. I know it might sound like I’m always in therapy, but honestly, I haven’t been. I just know when I need help, when I need someone to talk to. This therapist was especially helpful after the loss of my mother, guiding me through difficult moments, helping me manage my crippling anxiety, recognizing that I was avoiding my anger in all areas of my life, and working with me on my fear of not having all the answers. I made great strides, constantly pushing myself to confront and face different aspects of my life. But then, she recommended I try connecting with my inner child—the younger version of me.

She even suggested something that made me cringe: Hug a teddy bear or a pillow, pretending it was my younger self. The girl I once was. And let me tell you, I was so resistant. I didn’t want to do it. It felt awkward, like a silly exercise, and I was embarrassed. Back then, I hugged no one, not a real hug at least. I couldn’t visualize things that weren’t related to sports. Make-believe? Definitely not my thing.

But here’s what I’ve learned: When I resist something without even giving it a chance, it’s often a sign that it’s exactly what I need to do. Still, I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t going to hug a pillow or talk to my younger self. No way.

That’s when my therapy journey stalled. I stopped going because I wasn’t enjoying it anymore—I was actually dreading it. But I didn’t give up entirely. Instead, I found other ways to move forward, paths that led me to unexpected healing, especially with Reiki. In my first Reiki session, something incredible happened. As I received the energy, I saw images of my little girl. It was amazing. These weren’t images I was consciously thinking about—they just appeared. Later, I had a hypnosis session where that previous teddy bear I was supposed to hug came riding in on a Pegasus. At the time, I didn’t even know what a "Pegasus" was. Eventually, all these experiences felt easy and inspired me to become a healer myself.

I also started reading books on the inner child. Well, let’s be honest, I started a lot of books. I’m really good at starting but not finishing when the motivation fades (ha!).  I’ve worked with helpers who guided me in connecting more deeply with my inner child. They led me through visualizations where my younger self was surrounded by a bubble of universal love and light.

One of these sessions was especially powerful. My inner child was so happy to have another little girl to play with, and she received a golden bracelet as a gift. I decided that adult me needed a golden bracelet too. I bought one to symbolize my relationship with my inner child—something beautiful and golden. The bracelet sat unworn in the box for several months, and when I finally went to wear it and started adding charms, it broke.

Of course, I went to reorder it, but it was on backorder. While waiting, I realized something important: it was symbolic, I hadn’t been continuing the inner child work I needed to do. I knew I needed to reconnect, but I hadn’t made the time for it.

This week, I was guided through a hypnosis/meditation to connect with my inner child. And I cried—silent, healing tears. There was so much love there. It was such a beautiful, emotional moment as I reconnected with that little girl inside me.

And here’s the thing: I think my bracelet is going to show up any moment now. But even more importantly, I’m reconnecting with that beautiful little girl, and I’m giving her everything she needed when she was small. My parents and family did their best, there is no blame. But there were moments—both of my parents lost their mothers within a year of each other, when I was 2-3 years old—they were consumed by their own grief and in those moments, my little girl didn’t get the nurturing she needed.

In this visualization, I was also reminded of something important: Sometimes I can be too serious as an adult. It’s time to embrace more play.

I love to laugh—I laugh all the time. Anyone who knows me knows I’m always cracking jokes, even in tough situations. I remember when I tore my patella tendon in college volleyball. My knee pad was cut off, and I started joking about it, telling my teammates to take a picture. It was back when disposable cameras were a thing, so that picture is long gone, but the memory sticks.

Some might call it a coping mechanism, but it worked. Yet, in this moment of stillness, I was reminded that I need to play more in my life. I’ve gotten too serious. The stress of adulthood, the pressure of doing the "right" thing—it all dims my ability to be playful. But when I’m truly myself, when I embrace joy, life feels easier.

I was also reminded to send love to my inner child, to make her feel safe, heard, and nourished. And when that meditation ended, the healer said something that stuck with me: “You should do this for others.” And so, I will. I’ve recorded a guided journey to help others connect with their inner child, and now it’s available on YouTube.

Looking back, I laugh at how resistant I was to connecting with my inner child. I thought it was ridiculous. But now, I understand the power of treating that little girl with kindness. When I treat her with love, I’m treating myself with love. The more I love her, the more I love myself.

I’ve also been reminded, several times this week, that our shadows—the parts of us we don’t like or try to hide—are never going away. You can try to avoid them, deny them, or fix them, but they may always be there. Instead, we need to embrace them. We need to learn from them, turn them into strengths, and see how they can help us grow.

So, in this guided hypnosis/mediation, I protected my inner child from those shadows. Not because she wasn’t strong enough to face them, but because it wasn’t her time. She needs to be safe, to play, to be innocent and carefree. Meanwhile, I will start addressing those shadows, embracing all parts of me—the parts I’ve ignored or hidden—and begin the journey of embracing my full duality.