inner child

I spent the morning at the cemetery near my house. I had an urge to just get away from everything overstimulating me. Be it my phone, social media, and all the intrusive thoughts that keep me obsessive.

I love this cemetery. When I was unemployed and at a loss of what to do with myself I would go and sit amongst the grave sites, enjoying the peace and quiet. One day a coyote and two hawks came towards me. I thought of it has a very spiritual sign that I must press on with this whole surviving life thing. I like to think of the coyote as my spirit animal–and although many people think they’re scavengers and all about trickery, I see them as survivors that are capable of adapting to anything and everything. They also are vocal and I hope to never lose my voice (figuratively) ever again.

I sat down on the hill side and some mocking birds were whizzing overhead. My dog sat with me and I sat with my eyes closed, trying to clear my head. Suddenly a thought popped up: “what does my inner child want to do? What does she enjoy”

I’ve contemplated my inner child on and off, mostly because I am not in touch with her and her needs and it makes me sad. I lost my childhood to dysfunction and abuse, so trying to remember what child-me enjoys, is always a challenge.

I remember that she enjoyed swings. “What else does she enjoy?” She enjoys rock climbing and dance, and craisens from Grandma’s pockets. She enjoys paper dolls and legos, building blocks and finger paints. She enjoys swimming in that indoor pool with the glass ceiling and she can see all the stars at night. “Yes, keep going” I start to find myself dwelling on unpleasant things but I force myself to search for things my inner child enjoy. She loves getting cupcakes from the bakery next to preschool and she loves getting dim sum every Saturday with daddy. She likes to rollerskate in the halls of Daddy’s office on rainy days. She loves riding her bike, especially once she gets her training wheels off, and she rides her bike everywhere. She likes light up shoes and trampolines.

She still apart of me. Somewhere. And I want her to feel safe, precious and cherished so that she can go back to loving life in that fun, naive way children do. Here’s to moments of childhood naivete.

 

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