The Night I Met My Inner Child

In my last blog post, I said that I wanted to dive deeper into all the side effects of chemo and what helped me to cope with them. And I will. I promise. But last night something crazy happened, that I want to write down to process and ultimately share with you. It seems random, but I have the feeling, this is a really big piece of puzzle in my healing journey. Not sure if you're familiar with the frame 'inner child healing'. It's basically a way to address our needs that haven't been met as children and heal the wounds we've developed. We all have a younger part of ourselves that was "never quite loved the right way or the way they needed as a child".

Back in Berlin, during therapy, I made first attempts to reconnect with the younger version of myself, the little girl inside me who once felt unseen, or simply overwhelmed by life.

It felt really hard for me to get into a state where I could truly reconnect. Especially because I have established a shitload of coping mechanisms for myself. To keep me busy. And disconnected.

But last night, I had a really emotional dream. It felt so real.

In it, I walked up the stairs into a familiar living room, the one from a house I lived in when I was fifteen. Not the place I grew up as a child, but still full of memories.

And there she was.

A little blonde girl. Maybe four years old.

And I knew instantly: she was me.

She was just sitting there on the couch, so soft and still, so innocent.

And I walked straight over, leaned my forehead against hers, touched her little cheeks and cried.

I just wanted to hold her. And never, ever let her go.

When I woke up, I couldn’t stop crying. It felt so real.

I opened my bedside cupboard and pulled out my old photo album, almost as if I needed proof that she really existed. And there she was again. I looked into her eyes and cried all over again.

Because I know what’s coming for her.

The confusion. The pain. The trying-to-be-someone-else.

The numbing. The heartbreak. The shame. The pleasing.

She doesn’t know yet.

And I would give anything to protect her from all of it. But I can’t.

All I can do is hold her now and say:

I’m sorry.

I see you.

And I will never leave you again.

Maybe this dream came now because I was finally ready to receive it. Because I’ve reached a point in this journey where the healing isn’t just physical anymore. The little girl I comforted in my dream might be a part of me that’s been waiting to be seen and held. And maybe she knew: now is the time.

After so many months of holding it all together, of staying strong and pushing through treatments, something in me has softened. In a way that allows something deeper to come up. It feels like my body and mind are slowly starting to trust that it’s safe enough to feel, to process, to listen.

From the beginning, I had this feeling, that this journey wouldn’t just be about fighting cancer. That it would also be about meeting myself. In a different, deeper way.

I find myself looking at those photos again. Not out of nostalgia, but out of love. She’s not just a memory, she’s part of me.

And maybe, by loving her more deeply, I can begin to love myself more gently, too.

Because healing isn’t only physical.

Sometimes it’s meeting the part of you that needed love the most and finally showing up for her. ❤️‍🩹

When was the last time you looked at a photo of yourself as a child.. and truly saw them?

What would you say to them today?