After a while the middle-aged person who lives in her head begins to talk to her soul, the kid.
-Anne Lamott
It seems that the older I get, the more I'm in touch with memories from my childhood. Recently, tons of memories that hadn't surfaced for decades have started to make their ways into my conscious mind, and I can guarantee you that it's quite strange. I'm remembering long-forgotten things that seem to be almost the life of a stranger, separated as I am from my childhood by at least five decades. But when they do come back, they're strong and they're clear, and they make me realize just how much trauma I actually underwent all those years ago, and they help me to understand some of the many issues that I still have to face in my daily life. They help me to see why I fear this, why I'm hesitant to do that, why this bothers me so much, why that gets me so angry. And more importantly, they help me to see that that young person who I was is still a very important part of who I am, and that I should be treating myself with love and compassion because that young person didn't deserve to have that sort of trauma pushed into his life in the first place. It's important that I accept him as he was without judgment, and that I love him unconditionally and allow him to influence some of the many decisions that I make every single day.
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