I’ve been doing the work (as per Nicole LaPera), and have been asked to write letter(s) to my inner child. And so, I begin.
Caretaker Sarah,
I see you there, putting others’ comforts and well-being above your own, because that’s what you did as a kid. You did all you could to be helpful and good, so dad and mom kept loving you, even though it wasn’t you they were angry at – they were mad at each other.
I see you, needing to be needed, giving and giving as a means to help you feel worthy.
I see you, not listening to your own needs out of fear of being selfish or rude.
I see your need for approval from others, and a self-worth that depends on what others think of you.
I see you apologizing when you’re not even at fault.
I see you doing everything to avoid conflict at all costs, wanting to keep the peace you could never find in your childhood, at times to your own detriment.
I see you, struggling through being a constant giver to your children, feeling selfish and hallow by dare considering scaling back your selflessness for the sake of your own sanity, and then hating yourself when doing it.
I see you, I hear you, I love you.
They were mad, but not with you.
Anxiously Attached Sarah,
I see you there, struggling with self-esteem, believing you’re not good enough for someone to stay. This is a fear instilled into you by your mother’s inconsistent parenting, toxic emotional responses, and bipolar tendencies. Your childhood was a time of reeling and on unsteady ground. Where could you stand if you didn’t know where you stood with her?
I see you and your need for constant reassurance.
I see you there, among a lifetime of settling. Anyone that will have you, gets you. And then you get fixated, in love with love.
I see you there, clingy and needy. Terrified of being alone and abandoned, you pull and you need and you need. But then you panic and you push and push – what if they leave you? What if they find someone better?
I see you and your anxiety and jealousy and reading too much into EVERYTHING when your person is not there.
I see you, always afraid you’re going to mess it all up, afraid to speak. Fear driving you to deny your own needs for the sake of keeping the course – a course driven by anxiety, worry, and need.
I see you, I hear you, I love you.
She was sick and unwell, and it had no reflection on you.
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You are enough, Sarah. You are enough.
