Dear Inner Child

A letter to little girl inside, often forgotten, often ignored. My redemption lives here.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Dear Inner Child,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every moment I have left you cold and alone, swallowed in fear and choking on pain. I’m sorry for the loss you have endured and the shattering of your heart played over and over again. I failed you for so long.

I let you think that you had to do this on your own. I let you sit in a simmering pot of water praying for relief while I ladled more hot water into the pot. I watched you from afar while you did the job of living that I was too afraid to do.

I have neglected you day after day even after all the work I have done. Left you sitting in isolation wondering what you’ve done wrong. How you got there and when life is going to change for you, when you are finally going to get to release the chord of stress and anxiety tethered to your heart. I can feel it in you. I see it in you.

I see your battered body and tired eyes. I see the way you slouch because sitting up strong is wearing on you. I watch the way you move, hobbling along in fake confidence, a smile plastered on resembling that of a mask made in some other time out of false promises and aching hope.

I feel you. I feel you deeper than you may ever understand and it is inexcusable. No amount of apologies can suffice for how I have allowed you to hurt for so long.

I know what you are trying to do when you deflect. When you look the other way. It’s easier, more comfortable. When old emotions peak the top of a mountain of feelings, it leaves a weight sitting painstakingly prominent on not just your shoulders, but my shoulders. I have let you hold that responsibility and I’m sorry.

I can taste the hurt with every bite of food consumed and every laxative downed. Protecting an image that doesn’t really exist. I know how badly it hurts because I can see the regret of regurgitation wrung out in your intestines. I can feel the strangling sensation in your throat. I feel the starvation condensing your stomach to nothing more than the size of a bean - able to hold little and expel the rest. And when you ingest that food, you hold your breath, waiting for the instant shame to follow. Trying to feed your body while balancing the emotional regret. For years, you have suffered mentally trying to hold every plate and find the best solution and I have let you. I’m sorry.

Then there is the envy. The consumption like a bottle of booze (your choice), guzzled down to the last drop that has you dripping in desire for what others have and you do not. I know the fire that ignites deep in the pit of your stomach every time more good news that isn’t yours, dances through your ears. Feeling both joy and heartbreak all at the same time. Feeling the elation for friends and family while watching yourself crack a little more. Trying to find contentment and happiness with where you are at and who you are.

It’s hard and I’ve let you hold that plate too.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I abandoned you. I’m sorry I grew up and didn’t know how to hold you and when I learned, actively walked away because it was easier to let you handle it, you always have. You have always held the keys to the emotion kingdom. Forced to lock your own away in a tower built for someone else, something else, while you guided those of everyone else. Yet it was never your job to hold the feelings and emotions of someone else.

You have so much strength and poise despite the deep pain that often has you waking in the middle of the night, screaming for a mother that will not come. Waking in terror of the nightmare you have lived for far too long, only to realize it’s a reality you have been walking.

I know the grip on your heart is often unbearable. It sometimes feels like combustion is the only option while your chest is pulled in true quartered fashion, as if you are going to split in two from ache and strain. You find release in a million points of your body but not this one, where everything seems to come back, as if your heart is holding too much, holding on to too much. Afraid to let go.

All of this has worn you down. I see it. I feel it. I hear it. I know it.

This course is running longer than ever expected and you are tired, I know. I’m sorry.

I can sit here and I can tell you how brave and strong you have been. How much you have tackled and bared for nothing other than doing the right thing. I can tell you how much beauty and grace you have. That your flaws are perfectly set and you do right more often than not. That you are kind and giving. That others come first and that is a beautiful trait. That you can see where you need to grow and you dive in deeper so that you can come out standing stronger on the other side. I can tell you, you didn’t deserve the cards you have been dealt. That you growing up as quickly as you did wasn’t something you earned but were gifted with so that you can change the world in ways never expected. I can tell you all these things and more and know that it’s hard to understand and it’s hard to accept.

I know you are hard to accept. Accepting yourself is the hardest thing you may ever do. I have not been there to model this for you because I have not accepted you. I have, but not in the way you need from me.

I’m sorry.

Your life is deserving of so much and I hope, one day, you can find forgiveness and trust in me again while I work to take back the parts that should never have been thrust onto you.

You are a beautiful soul and it should soar always. I will not be here to hold you back but rather to support you. I won’t let you fly away and will do my best to keep you from getting lost. I will hold the keys that have weighed down those pockets for far to long.

I love you so much and I’m so proud of you for holding everything I was not strong enough to hold. You have done your job, and now it’s time for me to do mine. Day by day, I hope we can slowly let go of one more thing and you will trust me to take the reigns of responsibility for our life.

You deserve that, to feel the effervescent light and childlike feelings. And when I need you, I will tap into you where we can work together in play or in strength and conquer whatever is in front of us.

I love you and I’m here.

I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Love always,

Riss