Inner Child Healing: Awakening is Bittersweet

This morning, I had a profound sense that my inner being was calling me to sit and be still. The fact that I could feel and trust this sense is a miracle to me, considering there was a time when I had zero control of my mind. Back when I was unaware I was a wounded adult child suffering from CPTSD, stuck in the past and enmeshed in codependent relationships, my mind felt more like a shooting gallery, thoughts acting as bullets ricocheting off the invisible, inflexible, fragile walls of my mind.

Back then, I did my best to pretend I was okay. I focused on external things I could control, like my hair, lipstick, eyeshadow, and weight. I focused on worrying about not saying the wrong thing and doing all I could to behave as an emotional contortionist, ensuring I did not cause anyone any reason to banish me from their lives. This required the real me, the authentic facet of my inner being that made up 99.9% of me, to shut up, stand down, and close her eyes while pretending I was not drowning within my inner muck.

Today, I understand that it is impossible, regardless of how unfair or self-destructive, to fix a hole in the wall you cannot see. And when I consider the immense sadness I have carried with me since I was a small child, sometimes all I want to do is weep for her, the three-year-old within me who felt she could do nothing right or good enough to please the mother she adored and ached for her warmth and acceptance like one craves air after being caught up in a riptide.

We looked perfect, but emotionally, as a family, we all existed in our unique emotional riptide, walking on eggshells, pretending we were okay, focused on the moods, words, tones, and actions of one another, cautious of what pin that might drop and set off a screaming match, or a round of incessant rage rants we as the children, were powerless to escape. There were no adult witnesses aside from the ranters. Just three small, tiny, frightened children caught up in the trauma our parents never healed, who grew up in fear of disapproval, who never felt good enough, and thus, were forced to hide their vulnerable selves because our parents were immature, stuck, wounded adult children who falsely presumed it was best that children live in fear than feel loved.

They did their best, or the best they could, based on their level of self-awareness. It took me time to move beyond this concept, especially as I awakened from the slumber CPTSD and codependency are, looked over my shoulder, and surveyed the battlefield my life had become. From eating disorders to bazaar coping skills like hair pulling, to obsessive-compulsive counting, to an overwhelming need to jump in and fix other people’s lives while ignoring my inner universe, to the intense anger I felt toward my first husband, his family, my family, and for a time, even God, and to the disrespect I allowed while in relationships with men, after my divorce. My life was a mess; I was alone, and no matter how far I looked or what stone I unturned, no one or no-thing could save me or rescue me from the total mess my life had become.

The stakes were higher once I left my first husband and the father of my children. As if my pants were on fire, all I wanted to do was end it; once I awakened from the fog of codependency, it became painfully obvious my ex had no interest in healing our relationship sincerely. For a time, he played the game, placated me, and I suppose, expected I’d give up eventually, get back in the kitchen, fall into our superficial routine, cry myself to sleep, and wake up and do it all over again. His attempts at marriage therapy were a rouse, and when I spoke my truth, his rage was exposed; how dare I tell the truth.

He was wrong. This time was different. The reality of childhood trauma had been revealed in my consciousness; even though I had no clue how to fix my codependent subconscious beliefs or how to heal the wounds of my inner child enough not to continue to pass my trauma down to my children, I knew that staying in that marriage would only continue the patterns handed down to me by my parents, which I considered insanity. So, with three small children in tow, I jumped into an abyss, a bottomless pit of unknowns, and every fear I ever stuffed away cracked open inside of me, like a damn had been broken and the toxic waste was now flooding my bloodstream. Worse of all, I was alone, and I could feel this stark reality without the benefit of a relationship or food addiction, anger, blame, or cognitive distortions to buffer its razor-like sting.

I was awake now, and I could see clearly for the first time that my relationships were as bad as I pretended they weren’t. The labels my mother slapped on my back stuck. Why would anyone want to help me during the worst time of my life if they had been programmed to believe I was selfish, a drama queen, or crazy? Why would anyone worry about the child who could always care for herself, landed on her feet, and only thought about herself? Why would anyone rush to the aid of a child who never had needs, never asked for help, and who seemed as if there was nothing she could not handle?

Triangulation is a real thing, and in toxic families, it's such a staple in relationship dynamics you can’t understand how wrong it is. Immature, narcissistic, codependent, passive-aggressive, wounded parents triangulate all the time by pitting one child against the other as a form of emotional entertainment. Sure, it is an abuse of power, but when emotional abuse happens behind closed doors, does it count if no healthy adult witnesses what is going on, or if the children being abused are so shrouded in shame they can’t think straight because they’re tortured internally by the innumerable and unnameable of layers of shame caused by invisible abuses that corrupt them at the level of their developing sense of self? And what about the needs of the golden and hero child, to feel attached to the abusive parent when the abusive parent is lashing out at the scapegoat?

Golden and hero children are being used as pawns. Still, the real tragedy is the patterns and programs this creates within the part of the mind that stores beliefs, opinions, associations, and concepts toward the scapegoat for a lifetime.

The little me is still inside me, and through a devotion to breaking patterns and becoming the master of my thoughts, emotions, and, thus, destiny, I have slowly learned to heal her wounds, validate her, honor her, embrace her, nurture her, and listen to her, which is what I have done this morning.

All of us can get caught up in the mental mind, the doing, the worry, the bills, priorities, to-do lists, complaints, money concerns, world events, natural ego-related fears, the vat of our subjective opinions, survival emotions, reactive thinking, painful memories, and what is going on in the lives of those we love, care for or are at odds with. And that’s why it is so important to learn to appreciate what every inner child needs: time, stillness, communion, honor, validation, expression, and compassion.

This morning, despite the emails my business demands that I tend to, the laundry that awaits in my hamper, the soap scum ring around my tub, the discrepancy in a credit card statement, the vet appointment that needs to be made, the rift in some of my most personal relationships, and the bills that must be paid, I am grateful I could hear the little girl inside of me asking me to sit, to be still, to calm my energies, to put down my cellphone, to stop scrolling through social media, to not watch another unsettling YouTube short and to instead just place my sixty-year-old hands on my heart and say, ‘I love you, I honor you, I see you, I feel you, I hear you, we are one, and we are enough. We made it, Dear One. Cycles have been broken, and the secrets to inner peace, strength, and living an authentic life have been found and mastered. All is well; even as the moments of physical life tick by, all is well and as it should be.”

I hope you embrace the path of emotional liberation by taking up the sword of radical self-awareness and radical self-acceptance and entirely and utterly commit to healing your inner child. If you are new to healing and recovery from CPTSD, codependency, emotional neglect, and narcissistic abuse, this is a beautiful first step.

We got this!

Dear One, if have done all the hard work for you, and have created a roadmap up and out of the subconscious mind, so that all you have to do is follow my emotional healing blueprint. I relaunch The 12 Week Breakthrough Coaching Program live February 9th, 2025 and it would be an honor for me to assist you on the sacred healing journey of awakening and also, support you as you learn to break free of the chains of the past. 

To learn more, visit Click Here to Learn More