The Child Keeps Speaking

I keep thinking this is the end of it. The last wave. The final purge.

But each morning, I wake to more. More memories. More feelings. More truth. Like my inner child is finally free to speak—and he’s got a lot to say.

And the thing is: I believe him now. I don’t push him away. I don’t shame him for still hoping, still needing, still aching. I just listen. Because he’s never really been listened to before.

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For so long, I buried it all. I didn’t know how else to survive. The grief. The neglect. The loneliness. The shame.

And yeah, I looked for love in ways that weren’t always healthy. But I don’t feel ashamed of that anymore. Because what else was I meant to do? The need to be loved, to be seen, to be accepted—it’s primal. And no child should ever feel ashamed for needing love.

Now, as an adult, it’s my responsibility to hold those parts. To integrate them. To be the one I always needed. And I do that not just to protect myself—but so I can stay responsible with the strength I’ve always had.

Because I didn’t grow up with integrity modeled for me.
But somehow… I had it anyway.

And it might’ve made my life harder.
But it also made it mine.

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There’s a part of me—quiet, strong, firm—that never let go. It’s the part that got me into therapy. The part that whispered, you deserve care. The part that knew life could be different, even when everything around me said otherwise.

And honestly, if that part of me didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be here.
That’s not an exaggeration. That’s just the truth.

There were many moments I thought: If this is what life is, why keep living it?

And I get it. I understand why people take their lives. My best friend did. When I was around 27, 28. And I don’t judge him. I don’t think he was weak. I think he was in pain. Real, unprocessed pain. I just wish I could’ve helped him. But at the time, I was still deep in my own.

And maybe that’s why I want to become a counsellor or a therapist. Because I know what safety and trust can do for someone. I know how powerful it is to be seen—without fear, without judgment.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes to save a life.

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I don’t know when this purge will end.
Maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll just change shape.
But I trust it now.

Because I finally know this isn’t breaking down.
It’s breaking through.

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