The Death of My Inner Child

There has been a lot recovery work around finding and healing your inner child. If you give it a quick Google search you get about 22,500,000 returns.

I was probably five or six when my dad decided that we had too many cats in the world and he needed to rid us from the burden of these precious baby kittens. One of our country cats had just given birth to these beautiful furry babies. My brother and I adored the kittens and were outside playing with them when dad walked up to execute his plan.

He staged the scene using a large stump for his chopping block and carried a hulking wooden-handled axe. Without a word, dad reached down, picked up one of the kittens and placed its head on the rough top of that chopping block. He raised his arm up high and smashed the first little guy in the head using the blunt end of the axe. It slammed so hard into his little spongy head that blood immediately gushed from his mouth; his tongue flopped out and his little eyes bulged. I couldn’t look away. I was paralyzed.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen my father murder.

I don’t know if I watched the rest of those kitties be killed, but I certainly remember the first. When we were grown, I asked my brother if he recalled the incident. He said he did. I asked him if he was sure it really happened. My brother was short with me and said, “Of course it happened, why?” I replied, “because there’s just so much bad in my mind I want to be sure it really happened.”

This is how I healed my inner child.

I went back time and time again. Retracing the shadows of my mind. I listened intently to the echoes that came. I hunted to find my way through my innermost tragedies. I had children that deserved a mother to be present. I had a life I wanted to live fulfilled away from the ugly territory of my beginnings. I wanted to breathe without fear continually pursuing me.

I had a dream last night that was beautiful. Jesus was holding my inner child. It was lifeless. That sounds like an awful thing to say, but I knew what it meant. My inner child isn’t dead, it grew up. It became a beautiful, successful women.

I’m pleased with my progress.

17 thoughts on “The Death of My Inner Child

  1. Going back into the past can be really difficult. Facing things we don’t want to remember is excruciating. It really helps when you can do it with Jesus, and are actually aware of Him holding you lovingly in the palm of his hand.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. You’re right about becoming parents. It often sparks a time when our on abuse occurred and triggers memories. And, the love for our children pushes us on for hope of better! Thanks for commenting.

      Liked by 1 person

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