This Inner Child of Mine

I recently had a health scare.

Not one of those silly, "oh, I had the flu, and it was pretty bad," kind of health scares. One that almost killed me.

And among a plethora of things that occurred to me during my horrific fading in out of consciousness, one that really stuck out to me that was, despite being a 20 year old adult on paper, I'm really still just a lost, six-year-old little girl on the inside.

I wonder a little bit if maybe it was actually just my primal urges to live and fear of what was happening to me because I didn't understand it and maybe I'm just personifying it to better make it make sense, but there was an explicit moment where I was laying in the hospital bed, writhing and lost in this strange in-between state of conscious and unconscious - it was agony, by the way, it really hurt - and it was a split second moment of clarity before I went full force into just giving up on wanting to live.

I was laying there, originally begging for all the pain I was going through to just stop long enough for me to catch my breath and process what was happening and recuperate. I'd be okay if I could just have a breath to understand what I was experiencing. But it didn't end, it wasn't ever going to end, and I was becoming more and more hollow and exhausted, and in my mind I just saw the most vivid image of me. It was me when I was a tiny little child. It was like a photograph - wildchild hair, in a little nightgown I wore a lot back then, holding onto my favorite stuffed animal that I still own. And my face just looked so disappointed and hurt, like the face a child would give you if you hit them (corporal punishment isn't cool, by the way!), all snotty and teary eyed. And all I could think was, "I'm really still just a child." And immediately after that thought I was hit with the most soul wrenching sadness, and gave up on wanting to survive whatever was hurting me.

Now, there's a lot to unpack there, obviously, and the first being, "Why would that make me sad?" and that's an obscure personal question, like an inside joke that's not funny or a joke at all. My brother mentioned to me awhile back that I really needed to, essentially, get my shit together, and since I didn't have my shit together, I wasn't "grown enough". Think of the phrase, "Be a man," if you will. It hurt me a lot, it made me feel like a failure when he told me that, so accepting it in that moment made it feel too real, and if I'm a failure, then why am I trying?

The context aside, this is so profound to me because it means so many things all at once. Obviously at this point I've accepted that this is just who I am, but it made me realize the actual mechanics of why I think this way - I've always seen everyone the same way, I'm a self-described golden retriever about people, I love all of them and I think they're all amazing until they give me a reason not to, versus being distrusting and trusting later. And I think it's because I imagine everyone to be on par with their inner child - innocent, having good intentions, and at their core, aspiring for the same things - warmth, love, acceptance, and basic survival necessities, so to now see myself in that same regard, as well, is positively mind blowing.

Another thing it changed for me is still in the realm of perception, but in a bit of a different way than I just mentioned, and it also requires some context. I've always said, "My only goal in life is to become someone that would make little kid me proud, heal little kid me's wounds, and prevent harm from little kid me," kind of like my inner child was a separate, fictional entity. This is a very subtle change, but it has become a separate entity, to just being an actual part of me - I no longer depersonalize my inner child, I have fully enveloped and absorbed the most tender, soft parts of myself, and by doing so, it's even affected my behavior. I don't just treat myself kinder, but I also make other people treat me kinder, also. I am my inner child, why would I let someone talk badly to me? They're talking to my inner child, also, because it is me, versus before, people could treat me however they wanted, because I was simply an entity - I wasn't the one that needed protection, my inner child did, and we weren't the same back then.

It's so refreshing, this feeling. I feel so whole. I could be equated to a snail, I guess - before, I was just an empty shell. And now, I have my soft, fleshy innards. The inner coils of my shell hold life. They hold warmth, and fill me up. And that feels really, really nice.

I don't ever want to feel the way I did in the hospital again. I never want to feel like an abandoned, beaten child, that's just lost all hope to exist anymore. In the hospital I didn't have much choice because that was a physical illness that only time could heal, but I don't ever want to allow another person to make me feel that way, including myself. I want to protect myself - my dignity, my boundaries, by feelings, my comfort.

And it's okay that I'm twenty years old and identify with my inner child, because it makes me whole, it makes me happy, and it's raised my self respect, empathy, and view of the rest of the world and myself in a positive way.

And that's okay.