"Sherry" "Sherry"
Parenting My Inner Child
by Sharon Diane Bell
I spent the first three years of my recovery pooh-poohing inner child work. In the first place, I didn't have one! Secondly, if I did have one, what in the world would an adult child want with an inner child! I couldn't even take care of myself, much less nurture some little bitty inner creature.
One night, some friends in recovery shared with me that, in addition to bubble baths, they had discovered that taking afternoon naps on was a wonderful way to be good to themselves. I thought this was very odd because I never took naps at any time.
The following Saturday, I was coming down with a cold and felt exhausted. I had a commitment to keep that evening and was worried about not feeling up to it. I was walking down my hallway when the thought came to me that I should take a nap.
I immediately responded, "No!" "Why not?" a voice asked. "Because I don't want to!" I yelled. The voice gently continued, "You sound afraid. What is it that you need in order to feel comfortable enough to take a nap?"
At that point I crumpled, sobbing with my back in the corner. A frightened little girl said, "Someone to watch over me." Sherry, my inner child, had spoken. I could no longer deny her existence or ignore my need to acknowledge her.
My first act of owning Sherry was a letter I wrote to her. I held a clear picture of the precious child I was in my mind while I wrote. I told her how much I love her, and listed all the ways she is special and talented. I told her how proud I am of her and made a commitment to her in the form of promises that I will never abandon her and leave her alone; I will never hit her or scold her; I will never make fun of her or treat her with disrespect; I will do my best to listen to everything she says and pay attention to her; I will do my best to learn to laugh and play with her; I will never intentionally harm or hurt her; and I will do everything I can to protect her and keep her safe.
At first she was skeptical and doubted my ability to follow through with my commitments to her. She was very polite and formal at first, very much the little adult I'd always been. I was fully expecting the process of developing her trust to take years, when she did a very childlike thing and took me at my word in only a matter of weeks.
When she's sad and needs comfort, I cross my arms over my chest, put my hands on my shoulders and hold her, even rock her. Mostly I give her hugs and kisses emotionally or mentally.
She was rather put off by all the babying, as she calls it. She had always been alone in her pain and had to take care of herself, so it took awhile to get her used to not being alone and to being taken care of by someone else.
The most amazing thing happened to me during this process. As she began to relax and be a little kid, I became more confident, capable, and (shudder) adult-like. My emotional outbursts and temper tantrums lessened and finally stopped completely. My interactions with others matured. And the greatest wonder of all was that spontaneous joy returned to my life.
She helped me learn to laugh from pure joy and pleasure, to have fun and enjoy myself. I was such a hyper-vigilant soul from birth that I never developed the ability to simply enjoy myself and life. Since she's still a little girl, she was champing at the bit to be let go or set free to do what kids do naturally -- play and have fun. Then she patiently taught me, having the courage to tease me into it when I was reluctant.
I'm remembering the beginning of my relationship with my inner child -- how awkward it felt, how poignant so much of it was and still is, and how very much I need her in order to be a whole person in and of myself.
Acknowledging her, loving her, and hearing her was all she ever wanted. My parents were not able to give that to her, but I am. In exchange for that, she has filled the bottomless pit of need that I used to be.
© Diane Bell
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