That one grabbed at my inner child because it wasn’t necessarily the “cute” ages that came before age nine. 

Ages where there’s so much adorableness that, at least for me, it’s easy to feel warm and accepting of those little Annie’s.

Age nine was a time where I started to eat my feelings more and the sparkle in my eyes left, impacts of the relational trauma that I was many years into enduring by then.

So when I saw that photo I was struck both by how telltale the signs were that something was going on with that child but also because, in years past, I had previously had a really intense rejection response to seeing that photo.

In the past, I didn’t like that version of me. 

She was too hard to look at.

But this time, I only felt compassion when I looked at the photo, looked at nine-year-old me. My inner child.

Perhaps it’s a combination of both my own EMDR therapy and regular talk therapy deepening, maybe it’s because my mother bear instincts are growing with each year I mother my daughter… 

Whatever the reason, I could look at that photo with neutrality, love and the same kind of fierce protection I feel daily for my daughter.

And so I quickly wrote a note on Instagram about what I’d go back in time and say to her. 

Here’s what I said:

If I could go back in time, I’d try and hug her (but I’d ask for consent first so she could even begin to understand that that’s a thing and she deserves respect).

And then, regardless of whether she wanted a hug or not, I’d tell her that she is going to be okay. Really.

I wouldn’t lie.

I’d tell her that there are going to be many, many hard years but she’s got some good solid skills to cope with all the hard stuff.

I would encourage her to keep plunging into academics. Ultimately it will get her off the island, out of poverty, and into a life and experiences she thinks are only possible in movies.

I’d encourage her to keep disappearing into books and stories. It will help her dissociate from her reality, sure. But it will strengthen her imagination and her own writing skills. (Which she’ll use to build her career down the road.)

I’d tell her what no one else had yet told her — that it is NOT normal and that she DOES have a right to be angry about it all.

I’d tell her that she’s NOT crazy.