Tag: safety

  • How Meeting and Re-Parenting My Inner Child Helped Me Love Myself

    How Meeting and Re-Parenting My Inner Child Helped Me Love Myself

    “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” ~Oscar Wilde

    The journey to meeting, loving, and re-parenting my inner child was a long time coming.

    In 2018, I went through a devastating breakup. I’d been through breakups before. They suck, they hurt, some of them left me in deep abysses of sadness for a long time, but this one was something different.

    I can honestly say I felt levels of pain I did not know were survivable for a human being. Many days, I did not want to survive; I couldn’t imagine continuing to be in that level of pain for another moment. It is indeed a miracle I survived and came out on the other side thriving!

    So, what was the cause of so much pain?

    Well, it wasn’t him, I’ll tell you that much. While I loved that man more deeply than I previously knew possible to love someone, and so it made sense for it to be more painful, it didn’t make sense for me to be crying non-stop for months. I felt like I was being ripped to shreds from the inside out. The pain was relentless and wasn’t lifting even a tiny bit as time went on.

    So, I sought help to get to the root issue. The real cause of my pain was the tremendous amount of unresolved trauma I was carrying, a complete inability to love myself—in fact, I had no real understanding of what it meant to love oneself—and a massively wounded and scared little girl running the show at my core.

    To sum up: I had a great amount of sexual trauma, abandonment trauma, complex PTSD, and low self-worth, and I only understood validation as coming from outside of me. This breakup unearthed all these issues in one violent movement, like ripping a Band-Aid off a scab.

    All this ugly, unhealed stuff was exposed and shot into my awareness like a volcanic eruption, and I had no means of escape. All I could do was deal and heal. So that’s what I did.

    There were a lot of things I did, and still do, to facilitate this healing. Therapies, somatic healing modalities, and spiritual methods. None are necessarily better than the other. They all worked together to weave a rich tapestry of healing approaches to choose from at any moment.

    But since this is about inner child work, that’s what I am going to talk about.

    I believe many of us have wounded inner children running the show. Everyone we meet has an inner child expressing themselves through adult bodies. To what degree that inner child is wounded ranges on a wide spectrum, mostly based on how well their needs were met by their caregivers.

    My therapist suggested I purchase The Abandonment Recovery Workbook by Susan Anderson and begin working through it on my own in between our sessions. I furiously raced through the chapters, hoping that once I finished, I could date and find someone to hopefully mitigate the unrelenting pain. However, as I worked through and neared the end of the book, it became clear to me that I was in no way ready for someone else yet.

    The workbook contains several exercises, but there were a few dedicated specifically to identifying, visualizing, or meeting your inner child—a younger, more tender, innocent version of yourself that just needed to be seen, heard, and accepted for who they are.

    It helped for me to find photographs of myself from three to five years of age to aid in visualizing this child. Looking at that little girl and imagining she still lived inside me, deep inside my being.

    Once adult me was able to see her, I had to learn how to hear her and how to communicate with her. Via meditation, I’d visualize her and ask her questions:

    What does she need right now?

    How can I make things better for her right now?

    What is she feeling about this situation?

    I’d have to sit until I received an answer from her. This came as a thought or a feeling, sometimes a visual image or memory. Oftentimes, all she wanted was to be held, so I’d visualize my adult-self holding this small girl and giving her the comfort and compassion she desperately needed.

    This is the re-parenting. The part where we respond to ourselves in the ways that we would have wanted or needed when we were small children. To be seen and heard, rather than molded to act or behave a certain way. To be truly responded to, based on the needs we were expressing.

    The dialogue exercises with my little girl continued daily, sometimes multiple times in a day. It just depended on how intensely my inner child needed something from me that day, or how intently I was listening at the time.

    Sometime after I’d begun this dialogue, I was at work and delivered a small thank-you token to a colleague for doing a quick project for my office. He kissed me on the forehead in return. It made me very uncomfortable, and I quickly exited his workspace.

    I walked out to the street to run an errand, and within me, my little girl was raging. It felt like there was an inferno of anger brewing within my gut. I recognized in that moment I was not listening to my inner child, and she wasn’t having it, now that we had begun communicating with each other.

    So, I stopped. I tuned in. I asked her what she needed.

    She told me this man had violated her space and she felt unsafe, and I’d promised, capital “P” promised, she said, stomping her feet as young children often do, that I would take care of her from now on, and I hadn’t when I allowed someone to violate my physical space without saying something. She would not be appeased until the matter was resolved.

    The inferno continued to rage inside my belly until I walked back down the street, back into his office, and told him, “I do not want to be kissed by my coworkers. I’m sure others may not be bothered by it, but this is a boundary for me.”

    Of course, he apologized profusely, and we have never had any inappropriate run-ins again. But more importantly, immediately upon taking care of myself and my little girl, the inferno subsided.

    I took care of her and made her feel safe and secure. I continue to do so in my day-to-day life now.

    The above example was an extreme one. She is not always so easily heard. Sometimes I ask her what she needs, and it’s just to move the body, go for a walk. Other times it’s a cookie she wants. Often, it’s just to be acknowledged. Validated. To be told, “I hear you, I see you, your feelings matter.”

    As with any relationship, the needs, communication, and dynamics are ever-evolving.

    But I can say without a doubt, the connection between my adult-self and my inner child is the most valuable relationship I have, and today the amount of love I have for myself, due to inner child work, is above and beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

    I used to feel, most of the time, that I was not enough. Since doing this healing work, I now know I am enough, in all situations and places.

    Where there was typically a sense of impending doom and danger, there is now a lightness and delight and a true, deep happiness that has nothing to do with outside circumstances—just the pure joy of an inner wholeness I never even could have dreamed of.

    That’s what happens when we truly see and hear our inner child and respond to their needs without judgment. We feel love and safety like we’ve never known, and we finally realize we deserve nothing less.

  • How to Feel at Home Wherever You Are

    How to Feel at Home Wherever You Are

    At Home

    “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” ~Basho

    For over three years, I’ve been living out of a suitcase and traveling around the world doing a combination of volunteering, housesitting, and couch surfing.

    This journey started after I decided to drastically change my life. In the span of a week, I filed for divorce, quit my high-paying job in New York, left my PhD program at an Ivy League school, sold all my stuff, and flew to South America.

    After spending six months volunteering in Brazil, I began to realize that, while I was born and raised in New York, it never really felt like home.

    While I always knew I struggled with many aspects of the external environment, it was how I felt internally when I returned from South America that really made me realize how misunderstood and unhappy I was when I was there.

    So flying to South America turned out to be the first stop on a long quest to find a new home. Since then, I’ve driven to over thirty states in the US and have been welcomed into so many homes, I’ve lost count. I’ve viewed each of these experiences as an opportunity to learn how other people have created a sense of home for themselves.

    Here are five ways I’ve learned to develop a sense of home, and how you can too:

    1. Seek safety.

    Feeling safe is a basic human need and part of the foundation that allows us to relax and open up to the world around us. Feeling safe isn’t just a sense of physical well-being; it’s a sense of emotional and psychological well-being, as well.

    Many things can make a space feel unsafe, everything from unsettled relationships, to unfamiliar surroundings, to unsanitary living conditions. Growing up, there was a great deal of unspoken tension in the house, and when I got married, I never felt emotionally safe with my now ex-husband.

    As I’ve moved around over the last few years, I’ve confirmed that if we don’t feel safe, it’s impossible to feel at home. As a result, there have been places I thought I’d stay for weeks that I ended up leaving after a few hours, and there are places I thought I’d spend one night and ended up staying several months.

    Anyone or anything that disrupts your sense of safety will become an obstacle on your quest to feeling at home. Eliminate these obstacles by either moving on from unsettling situations or by developing healthy boundaries that help to maintain your safe space.

    2. Connect with people.

    While a physical space (home, apartment, condo) can provide a degree of structure and external stability, it’s the people we surround ourselves with that truly make or break a home. We all need a community of people in which we feel understood and supported.

    When I was living on Long Island, it appeared that I had a huge network of people surrounding me. But as I’ve traveled and found communities of like-minded individuals, I’ve realized just how misunderstood and disconnected I felt growing up. Once I experienced what it feels like to be embraced and accepted by those around me, it became impossible to settle for anything less.

    Connecting with others takes effort and time. Talk to those around you and really listen to what they’re saying. Notice how you feel when you’re with them; when you’re around those that feel like home, you’ll know. Keep searching until you find the community of people that feels right for you.

    3. Explore and try new things.

    It’s easy to take for granted everything that our environment has to offer. But chances are there is a great deal more going on than we realize. If we can learn to view life as though we are on an adventure, we’ll feel more inspired to explore that which is right in front of us.

    When I arrive at a new city, I have zero expectations about what I want to see or do; instead, I speak to the people in the community and ask them for advice. This is how I ended up on a river float in Missoula, Montana; learned salsa dancing in Boulder, Colorado; and explored artwork in a tiny park on the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri.

    Bring a sense of enthusiasm into everything you do, as though you’re a child seeing everything for the first time. Be curious, ask questions, and learn details; every place and every person has a story. Be fearless and go out and explore; this exploration will help you build the deeper connection to the world around you that is needed to feel at home.

    4. Spend some time alone.

    Developing a sense of home is as much an internal discovery as it is an external one. Being present and aware of our feelings and intuitions will help guide us toward making the necessary changes needed to feel at home.

    Even though I’m moving around to different places, I still make time for myself every day. I wake up and do a yoga practice, go on long walks by myself, meditate, journal and spend long drives in silence as a way to clear my mind.

    Take some time alone each day and use this time to check in with your emotions. Inquire about how the people and environment make you feel. Journey within as much as you journey outward and ask yourself what you can do to make the space you’re in feel more like home.

    5. Slow down.

    It can be tempting to rush in and out of new environments, frantically trying to explore and connect. But to truly develop a sense of home, we must slow down long enough to really experience the people and places we find ourselves in; this same concept applies to environments that we’ve been living in our entire lives.

    There have been several moments over the past few years where I’ve found myself caught up in needing to see and do everything that every city has to offer. Not only is this impossible, but it’s also exhausting. Focusing on quality over quantity, in both my connections with others and in my experiences, has been far more powerful in creating a sense of home than having a laundry list of mediocre ones.

    Become an active participant in the world around you rather than sitting on the sidelines and observing life as it passes you by. Take the necessary time to fully process each and every experience and each and every person you meet along the way.

    Take one step today toward exploring your sense of home wherever you go.

    There are plenty of ways in which you can explore the world around you, but remember that you must also look inside yourself and let your gut be your guide.

    Home is where you feel safe, connected, understood, and loved. The more present and engaged you are with both yourself and the world around you, the easier it will be to feel at home anywhere.

    Photo by satemkemet

  • Leaving the Safety of Something Familiar When You Feel Scared

    Leaving the Safety of Something Familiar When You Feel Scared

    Base Jumping

    “To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.” ~Pema Chodron

    Winter is a time for hibernation, I told myself, drinking a second cup of coffee under the duvet, flicking absent-mindedly through old magazines and self-help books bought in a brief conviction that I wouldn’t begin another year reading in bed.

    It seems perverse that, in the Northern Hemisphere at least, this time meant for reunion and resolution (neither of which is easy or straightforward) should occur in the darkest of seasons—when the sun barely even rises and the general inclination is to climb into a hole and only reemerge in spring.

    This year I had returned home after a five-year absence, which had seemed longer. During that time, I had spent Christmases in random parts of Asia that, if listed, would sound romantic and exotic—temples, jungles, and mountains.

    But that time had been largely marked by loneliness and bewilderment at why I always choose to be far from those I’m meant to be closest to.

    Travel, in its constant offering up of newness and discovery, always seems to promise another chance at reinvention. Maybe this is in part why I do it, never having found a version of myself I’m comfortable enough to settle with.

    And yet, once back in familiar surroundings and familiar relationships, it never takes long for this promise to fade and for old habits to reappear. Over the past weeks, I’ve had to keep checking photos, maps, postcards, just to remind myself that what had gone before was in fact something I lived, not merely a dream.

    The previous three months I had been traveling, over-ambitiously combining Thailand, China, and India in an attempt to compensate for a year of teaching in a chaotic Asian city.

    My intention had been to get myself out of the dysfunctional routine I had created while teaching—the six-day work-week, an addiction to HBO and my sofa, overreliance on a few good friends—and throw myself back into Life with a capital L.

    Unfortunately, over the course of the year, I had learned to become a person suited to precisely such a routine, cutting off the part of myself that secretly wanted connection and community even as I hid away.

    After all, old habits die hard. During the acute social phobias of my teens and twenties, I had become skilled at avoidance—often not stepping out onto a street for days on end—and while one of my tough-love strategies for overcoming the fear had been to start working as a teacher and traveling the world, it now became painfully clear that it was still there, still part of the baggage.

    So now I was out of the nest all right, but once more I had completely forgotten how to fly. Learning how to travel again was beautiful, awful, and everything in between. (more…)