Reclaiming The Inner Child -

Let them choose the color of the crayon. Let them jump in the puddle. Let them speak the truth you’ve been filtering through thirty layers of "appropriate."

It is saying yes to the ice cream cone before dinner. It is lying on the grass to watch clouds shape-shift into dragons and ships. It is letting yourself feel angry without immediately fixing it, and sad without rushing to numb it. It is asking for what you need, directly and without shame, the way a child tugs on a sleeve and says, "I'm scared. Stay with me." Reclaiming the Inner Child

Small. Warm. Unafraid.

The work is gentle, but it is not easy. Because that child also carries the hard things: the first time you were told to be quiet. The moment you realized your parents were fallible. The loneliness of a birthday party where no one showed up. To reclaim them, you must be willing to sit beside those memories—not to fix them, but to say, "I see you. I’m sorry you were alone then. I’m here now." Let them choose the color of the crayon