When my nephew was two years old, I picked him up from kindergarten and invited him to a local pâtisserie. We sat down opposite each other with a generous spread of cakes laid between us. As a freshly baked auntie, I hadn’t yet realised that spoiling your nephew comes in varying degrees of intensity. We chatted and something felt new then. This date marked the moment he metamorphosed from being my brother’s little boy to a person in his own right. His face glistened with understanding and recognition. There was a curiosity sparkle in his eyes that hinted at everything still to come: our deepening relationship and friendship. It dawned on me that “He is a conscious human being! We will one day be having full-blown conversations!”. I asked him how things felt at home and at kindergarten. He said everything felt okay. I asked what he liked most and least about kindergarten. He told me how he struggled to fall asleep during nap time and wondered how he could pass the time to avoid feeling bored. I suggested he could invent a game in his imagination and picture playing it with everyone after nap time was over. He gazed up at me, carefully weighting up the idea. This little platonic date of ours really mattered because it was an attempt at building something that belonged just to the two of us. Not an extension of the family dynamic with my brother and sister-in-law, but a relationship between two people getting to know each other.
Earlier today, I brought this platonic date to mind. I sat down with my inner girl and invited her to the same little pâtisserie. She knew the question that was coming: “How are things feeling at home?”. I didn’t get to finish before she burst into tears. A moment passed and then her answer surprised me: “Everything is normal, fine.” I didn’t attempt to correct her. I made space for her reality. I noticed her posture and facial expression. She looked so guarded, lost for words to describe the ache behind her guard.
Over the years, both my own healing journey and the work I do with my clients taught me something profound about childhood. When we are young, we are a bit like a carrot simmering in soup. We don’t know any other way than the flavour that surrounds us. If we grow up in a dysfunctional family, we absorb the all-encompassing soup of dysfunction as though it were the whole galaxy. We might feel frightened, angry, helpless, hurt, confused by the mistreatment we endure, but that doesn’t automatically mean we are aware that this is not the norm. Even witnessing atmospheres in our friend’s family homes might not awaken us from our challenging reality. Over and over and over again during sessions, my clients and I visit inner children who are hiding, helpless, withdrawn, carrying everything completely alone. I often ask: “Is there anyone else there with her/him?” The answer is usually: “No.” Or “My parents are downstairs, but they aren’t coming”.
We put on a beliefs shawl that whispers “There is actually something wrong with you”. This shawl is made of cheap, itchy threads of shame that get more uncomfortable with time. We keep wearing that shit shawl because taking it off might hurt more. All those fibres have by now tangled into the skin. Taking it off is a complicated job. In my client’s processes, we invite a witness. Sometimes they embody the witness themselves and sometimes they imagine someone else entering the scene. Someone who walks into the house, takes a good look around and names, without flinching, what needed to be named all along:
“This isn’t right.”
“This child shouldn’t be carrying this.”
“The adults need to change.”
“I will help put a stop to this.”
Even though the child’s body is certain, the mind protects them from internalising the unbearable truth that our parents- our gods and primary protectors- are capable of harming us.
I saw my inner child’s emotional response to this fundamental question: “How are things feeling at home?”. I understood why it was never asked. And at the same time, a part of me was astonished. How could there have been no one to ask such a basic question? The gravity of such inquiry tears down the carefully constructed dam. Was anyone ready for what was about to spill out? I didn’t think so.
Am I ready to hold what is about to burst through? I am not going to lie to her and say that I have all the answers. It is completely okay not to have ready-made solutions and to show up feeling a little worried. The medicine isn’t us telling our inner child what’s what. She’s already had adults violate her by putting words in her mouth. The remedy is our curiosity, our inquiry, our agency and the priceless gift of kind presence.
Invite your inner child for a platonic date! A play date, dinner date, date in nature, a cute pâtisserie date! Craft and curate it in your mind with care. You can invite them somewhere exciting such as your favourite café or park. Ask these meaningful questions, that should have been asked years ago: “How are things feeling at home?”, “How are things feeling at school?”. Let them tell you about it. First, don’t try to change their circumstances, but make space for their reality. They might be cagey, shy, mistrustful or surprisingly articulate in what they share. These are all meaningful indicators. Listen as if you were listening to a good friend. Then work together to find a resolution. What needs to be done to make their situation safer?
