The Child.

Many of us have heard about the inner child through therapy, trauma work, or psychology.

But have you ever experienced it naturally?

The awe and beauty of seeing, truly seeing, your inner child?

Carl Jung touched this idea. 

He called it the Divine Child - a symbol of innocence, potential, and the fragmented self seeking wholeness.  His work pointed toward something many of us may still be trying to understand.

Modern therapy often teaches inner child work as an exercise: 

• Speak to them

• Write to them

• Visualize them.

But sometimes something else happens. 

After deep grief and trauma work, the child can simply appear.  I call it the Frozen Self. 

The age where part of us got stuck.  The age where our world changed.  Whether it happened at three or sixteen, some part of us can remain frozen there... waiting.  Not dead. 

Waiting.

As we continue healing and finally face the devastating truths of childhood, that frozen self may emerge. Not because we created them, but because we finally reached them.

The trick, if there is one, is that we often have to go deep enough into the wound to feel the devastation.

I was led to believe healing like this would take years, but mine happened in weeks.  Though I don't recommend that pace.  It was brutal, took too much psychologically, and left very little room for integration.

But I never planned on meeting her.  She simply appeared.  Twice.  In that strange in-between place between waking and sleep.

She was five.

The first time, she stood at a Christmas pageant. Black dress.  White lace collar.  Big red bow in her hair.  She looked at me.  Her eyes widened, then softened into a smile.  And I felt her asking:

“Are you proud of me?”

She already knew she was emotionally alone.  Even then.  But when she saw me see her, something softened.

And it literally brought me to my knees.  For the first time, I understood the weight of what had been lost.

The next day was even more vivid. 

She was lying silently in my old bedroom.  I could see the orange geometric wallpaper.  Smell the summer sweat on her tanned skin.  Hear the silence after the screaming.  The never-ending fighting.  But she wasn’t crying.  She looked frozen.  Quiet. 

Like shock had preserved her there.

So I picked her up.  Looked her in the eyes and said:

“I believe you… no one will ever hurt you again and we are getting the hell out of here.”

And we left. 

Then she moved in with me.  It felt like having an imaginary friend while simultaneously remembering yourself.

And that is when the instinctive reparenting began.  She rode in the back seat of my car.  She danced to my music and was always smiling or cuddling.

It felt like this time she was included.

Not blamed.
Not laughed at.
Not in trouble.

And I felt that relief right in my gut.

She always looked up at me like I was the first person who had ever truly chosen her.

Later, as I integrated my healing, it became clear:

I never saved her.

Baby Erin saved me.

The Adult.

Sydney Turcotte 🎀

If you are interested in inner child recovery work or coaching, link is in my bio or just send me a dm.