Tenderness

Healing that inner child

In my 40s, I’m finding that tenderness is more important than ever. It feels like I’m parenting myself all over again, swaddling my girl self in a blanket of forgiveness and tenderness.

As a young person, I remember watching Toni Morrison on the Oprah show. She said something I’ve never forgotten. She asked, do your eyes light up when your children walk into the room? She declared that they should.

I was a teenager then, so childhood memories clung to me like burrs. I recalled the rooms I walked into as a child. What was I met with? I recall exasperation, disdain, even indifference. But rarely joy. I was a sensitive child, attuned to the minute mood shifts of the adults around me. I understood that to be loved or at least not tormented, I had to either be invisible or useful.

Being mostly unmoored and on the outside of my family has meant that I could do whatever I wanted and very few people would care. There is a kind of freedom to that.

Still, I’ve always had high expectations for myself. At first, I was trying to please my mother before I realized that was, one, impossible and that, two, her single highest hope was that I wouldn’t become a teenage mother. (Much to her chagrin, I’ve decided not to be a mother at all). But I was also a delusional child early on. When I read about exceptional people, folks who were adventurers, folks who invented cures for things, renowned writers, I thought, I want to be like that. Why would a poor girl who came from nothing and no one even think that way? I was just too naïve to think otherwise.

The more outwardly successful I am, the more that invisible child speaks up. The truth is, she’s always been there. I put her in a safe place, kept her fed and watered but I didn’t allow her to speak much. Now she has a lot to say. She wasn’t muzzled per se, but I had hoped that all the growth and changes would keep her satisfied. But now I realized she just wants a few simple things. She wants kindness, generosity, and tenderness. She wants to be seen and understood.

I had a lover tell me they had to treat me with kid gloves, that I was too sensitive. At first, I wanted to defend myself and countered. No, I’m not too sensitive. But then I relented. Yes, treat me with kid gloves. Be soft with me.

Just because I can take something doesn’t mean I should have to take something, you know?

It is because of this past that I love myself so fiercely now. When I see myself, I smile. I love that girl, without conditions. I like that girl, without reservation. I know I’m tough and have survived everything thus far. Treating myself—all of me—with tenderness is how I survive and thrive into the next elevation.