#inner child

[neglected-damaged-graced]

"A little. tongue and cheek" I will confess to another point. I am able to clearly see when I take joy in playing my old tapes. I even confess to taking a little sadistic fun from being able to shock the hell out people when they mistake my next level of kindness for weakness. Despite years of improvement my survival skills are still on point! (Just not all the time.) #innerchild #innerchildhealing #innerbrat #survivalskills

[angellimbed]

sweet plush picnic 🧺🌸🍊

[angellimbed]

in-depth healing/nostalgia/collecting room tour! 🌷 | angellimbed

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in-depth room tour is up! 🌷

[crucifiedhereticprincess]

What are you doing today?

Today?

Trying to confuse my trauma with positive memories.

Giving my inner child something to remember besides survival.

[bbblackbearry]

In my attempts to embrace my inner child, I've found that she's actually kind of a whiny lil bitch

But real talk it's smthn that's been lowk difficult to grapple with. I've been taught that complaining and negativity is annoying, and disagreeing or saying no is rude. Chronic people pleasing, needs to be liked by everyone, says she's 'just not into politics', social anxiety leaves her shaking like an old chihuahua- the classic.

So in essence, I'm trying to embrace that inner bitch, and teach her that its okay to bitch politely, to stand her ground, not just roll over and agree, and to only say things if she means it. That she can establish boundaries and that she is allowed to scream and yell and cry and be upset. And that its okay if people don't like her back because of it.

So this blog is my clumsy way of experimenting with this whole concept. Like many in my generation, it seems, at this point in my life I guess I'm having my mid-20s early gen z identity crisis. The little girl who was raised in religion and conservative boomer tradition is now facing a tumultuous world that has shown time and again that the cake is a lie, and basically every single thing is a made up concept that we follow simply to maintain a system designed to crush the majority for the betterment of the few. She put on a mask because cranky old boomers told her that her personality would never get her a job or a good life, and now my inner child is just so angry they made her afraid to be herself.

And now I'm torn between taking off that trauma mask, which has literally who I've tried to be my whole life, and figuring out what actually is me underneath. And to start, I've begun as mildly as I can - attempting to shout my dumbass opinions and thoughts into the eternal void of the Internet via this blog. It's a small start, esp as I'm hoping to keep it mostly anonymous (still too scared of judgement from fam and friends), but I usually end up too afraid to post my thoughts or art and delete my account, so just having this blog and keeping it active is a big, stressful step for me.

Sorry for the dump- TLDR: My inner child is lonely because she's been too afraid to unmask and be herself. I hope she makes friends. I hope she makes enemies. I hope she can find peace with her own existence. I hope I don't make a fool of myself, but if I do, I'll try to be the best jester I can.

[rum-inspector]

Mindfullness people who mean well but grew up privileged and it shows: "Get in touch with your inner child, who were you before the realities of the world and societal pressure crushed your dreams? Who were you in 5th grade?"

Some of you got to live all the way to 5th grade before reality hit you in the face and crushed your dreams and hopes? Sounds fake.

[a-lil-bit-weird]

if you can't read the text, it says "Embrace the little kid in you that still hasn't grown up"

[mightbemyah]

i cannot be held if only in contempt. i have wrought the work i let rot, as the fruit i taste between white knuckles i sought. it is the labour they dream of, the love they don’t know. it is a choke hold the contempt my hands taste. i bare them to the world i love, barely loved. to hold what is so sour and and soft. the contempt a heartbeat clasps, a mind hardens, and a word shatters. the love of a world, a world that holds the contempt of love, the love that squishes that fruit, that bares the world, the world i love.

i cannot bare the world in pain. there is a destain i release poised. no breath can feel the same. if i live the anguish that seethes, i can fare the fair weather flame. pain does not subside to breathe, nor does the breadth of the worlds breath. in pain. there is no where to the destained flame, no there is no fairness to the poised pain. i try my breath steadied. there is no world where it stays the same. the flame may flicker. the world will turn. the breath release. the soul is sold. i bare the worlds pain.

i cannot grieve slowly enough. i sprint in exhibition. i display the sorrow i believe. no crater hear of the pit i delve, in time i will let. the context of my expression is lost in time. i do not hold the potency of relevance, when i die on each hill, past the mile marker. two miles back. can i grieve in this context. if i display my own exhibition, i believe is right. you will see my context die, a few miles back.

let me out. hold me down. kill my pride. let it die.

i cannot believe a truth, wrapped in lye. i cannot clean a lie left straight out and held. i lie to feel straight out truthful. i can make it through this process, and i am taking you with me. dye your soul. let death be sold. i will not buy. there is a world ahead, loved and lived. i will be part of it and not be of it.

life is possible. hope. i don’t leave it alone.