02 My Light – Spot 5
Self-care: I heal my inner child
I am as sick as my secrets. What I hide in the dark eats me up. So I switch the light on. And like a vampire, the whole lot crumbles to dust in the daylight.
My ego shrieks: don’t! Leave the armour where it is! Well. Too late, old girl. I’m carrying on. Because down there sits somebody who flinches at every attack. My inner child. For years I left it on its own.
That is over. From now on I stand by it. Let’s look at three situations where everyone else usually blows it over.
Evening, a group of women. First it is aimed at ourselves. Too fat, too lazy, nothing under control. Who has been sinning again, who has given up on the diet. Then at whoever isn’t there. Did you see her? And as for her.
I hang back. Just not in the mood for cutting myself down today. Or for pulling other people to pieces.
And off it goes. “What’s up with you? Too good for us now? Suddenly above all this?”
Now I have three options. One: join in. Talk myself down, gossip along, so I belong. Result – I feel rotten afterwards, deep inside. Is that what I wanted? No.
Two: sit there and swallow the jibes. Let them get their kicks out of me. As long as I’m in the group. Even as the resident killjoy. Is that what I wanted? No, that either.
Three. I notice what is going on. My stomach tightens. Careful – any second now I’m the target. And I realise: this is not my world. My values count for nothing here.
So I draw the line. Calmly, no drama. “Have a lovely evening.” And I go. I find people who do my soul good. Or I drive home, put my arms around my inner child and feel bloody proud that I protected it today.
And the best part: I go without judging. The others aren’t wrong. I’m not wrong. We are simply different. I don’t have to rate anyone. Not them. Not me.
Sometimes I can’t simply walk out. A meeting, and my boss has it in for me. Runs me down in front of everyone. Stand up, tell her to unload her inferiority complex somewhere else, and walk out? That would be the most honest version. But it isn’t on right now.
How do I get through it? First the honest question: is there anything in the criticism?
If there is, I thank her inwardly. She is showing me where I can get better. Later, one to one, I tell her: thanks, I’m learning.
But being shown up like that earlier – that really got to me. Next time tell me when we are on our own, not in front of the whole team.
And if there is nothing in it? If my colleagues didn’t think it was fair either? Then I take my inner child under my protection. Here the wisdom of an old Stoic helps me.
My boss does what she thinks is right. Not what I think is right. If she is wrong, she carries the damage, not me. Just like somebody who says “two plus two is five” – that doesn’t make four wrong. It only makes him a fool.
Her false judgement about me says nothing about me. It says everything about her.
Third situation. This time I am the one dishing it out. Somebody attacks me, and bang, I type a message back. Poisonous. Pull the trigger. Gone.
Three seconds later: my stomach. Damn. That should never have gone out. Because my words went through none of the three gates. Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? Three times no.
What happened there? My alarm system took over. Fight or flight. The clear-thinking part of me – simply gone. All that was left was the wounded child hitting back.
Now I need an anchor. A sentence I say out loud to myself until I can think again. “I will survive this. I am not a bad person. There is a solution.”
Then I talk to my inner child the way I would to my best friend. “Hey, he really got you going there. You lost your rag. It happens. I’m with you.”
And when the smoke has cleared, out comes the DoD. What was the trigger? What did he hit in me? Which old wound? I write it down. I see it in front of me. And what I can see, I can change. Next time my mind will be faster than my finger on the trigger.
Three situations, one pattern. I stand by my inner child.
That leaves the question: what do I actually want? A life wrapped in cotton wool where nothing can happen to me – and where nothing happens either? Or the risk of falling flat on my face, and in return a life full of real moments?
I know what I want. And slowly I am turning into one of those people I always admired. You know the ones. The real ones. They couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of them. Which is exactly why everyone likes them.
They are not perfect. Never were, don’t want to be. Which is exactly why they are so bloody good at what they do. They see the glass half full. They don’t moan. Exhaustion is not a medal to them. There is always time for playing and lazing about.
They compare themselves with nobody. At most with themselves. They don’t worry – worrying changes nothing anyway. And they laugh, sing, dance. Because that is a thousand times cooler than trying to be cool all the time.
That is where I want to get to. And the way there leads through my inner child. I take it by the hand. And off we go.