The Inner Child's Redemption

The Inner Child’s Redemption

By Sonesta Wilde

In the heart of the pulsating city, Clara lived a life that many envied from afar. If only the envied could see through the veil of her troubled soul. Those closest to her sensed the tempest within. Yet, the timeless mirror her mother gave her knew her best. As dawn's light spilled into her room, Clara sat down, readying herself for the day ahead. She meticulously applied her makeup, one of the few rituals where she felt a semblance of control in her increasingly chaotic life. Looking into the mirror and admiring her reflection, she batted her newly luscious lashes as if she were the biggest flirt in town. As her final flutter came to a demanding halt, she realized the sultry black mascara had betrayed her, cascading down her cheeks as though fleeing from the truth behind her eyes. Her face was now concealed with darkness. She resembled a tragic heroine, not unlike Mina from "Dracula." Alarmed, Clara reached to cleanse the streaks, but the furious tap spat forth water searingly hot, scalding her fingers with rage.

Glancing back at the mirror, she saw more than just her startled face weeping with pain. She saw shadows that wove a dance, hinting at a darkness she barely knew. From deep within, an inner child, scarred yet pleading, stirred, threatening the world Clara had so carefully built.

One evening, the apparition of young Clara appeared more solid than ever, her eyes brightly burning with a mix of weakness and wrath. Clara was in the midst of preparing dinner, which she had little desire to make when she was jolted by a sudden drop in temperature. The air was as crisp as her knife and as cold as Lake Michigan in the heart of winter. As she turned, she locked eyes with the apparition before it turned into a blizzard of dust.

By the time Clara swept away the chaos, she realized that the inner child's presence was still haunting the bitter air. The child began to taunt her, with shadows creeping and lights flickering, emphasizing her looming presence. The voices grew louder, with young Clara's shrieks echoing around the room, "You never listen! You never cared!

Overcome with hysteria, Clara yelled back, "What do you want from me?!" Tears surged down her face, the weight of her emotional turmoil becoming overwhelming. Plates crashed, water overflowed from the sink, and the entire atmosphere was charged with distress.

Young Clara’s voice softened momentarily, sounding hauntingly pitiful. "Why do you get to be happy when I never did? Why should he love you when you can't even love me?"

Feeling at a loss for words and still not understanding what the little girl wanted, Clara called for Adam" "Did you remember to pick up the asparagus?"

Adam, perplexed, replied, "What asparagus? I didn’t realize that was something I needed to do."

Clara, still trembling from her encounter with her younger self, was now on the verge of losing it completely. "Of course you didn't. You never listen to me, Adam!" Her voice, echoing with old pains and lingering fears from long before their time, filled the room. "You're always lost in your world!"

Taken aback by her grueling intensity, Adam responded, "It's not about my listening, Clara. It's about your changing. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You battle ghosts I cannot see." Adam's undeniable truth echoed through the tension in the room.

The living room, where secrets were once whispered under the soft glow of the tired evening, had become a battlefield. Books, vases, and invaluable memories lay scattered across the floor. Clara, puppeteered by an agitating force—the younger, more turbulent version of herself—was consumed in an emotional frenzy. This Little Clara, though unseen, was the instigator, feeding off the disarray, craving attention.

In the corner of this battlefield stood a telling barometer of Clara's inner turmoil: a potted plant, the Kalanchoe delagoensis, also known as the Mother of Millions. This cherished plant, once vibrant and full of life, now drooped and shed its leaves as if shedding tears from a recent heartbreak. As her inner child's despair deepened, it seemed to poison the very air, causing the plant's leaves to shrivel and life to wane, echoing the disturbance inside her.

Adam, almost frozen in time, proclaimed, "I need some fresh air, Clara. I'll walk Roe. He probably needs one anyway."

But she retorted, her voice rising, “Wow, really? Of course, you want to leave. You know what? I'll take the walk!"

Adam, desperately trying to instill calm, dodged a flying picture frame. His voice, strained with concern, reached out, "Clara! Please, stop this!"

A spectral cold swept in, heavy with memories and regrets. As Clara's emotions peaked, her inner child’s presence cast more uncanny shadows, resonating with a time when her father’s manipulative threats to depart from the only family he built were always imminent. The child’s anger made the walls quiver, and nature, ever so attuned, mourned in kind.

Childhood memories painted a picture of a home teetering on the edge, where the looming specter of abandonment blanketed every corner of the room with darkness. Her father's dramatic exits during disputes left wounds that, bled into her relationships for years. Clara feared every pause, every sigh, seeing them as a prelude to desertion. 

Clara grew up in an unstable household where the fear of abandonment overshadowed much of her life. Her father's manipulative acts of dramatic exits or packing his bags during conflicts left wounds that became scars in her relationships. This manifests in her romantic partnerships, where she exhibits an anxious attachment style, fearing that any minor disagreement, every sigh, pause, or need for space by her partner signifies a prelude to abandonment.

In this room, where love once flourished, the remnants of joy littered the floor. The Kalanchoe delagoensis continued to mourn amidst the upheaval. It was clear that little Clara was going to do anything she could to make her presence known; she was hungry for recognition.

Adam, gathering himself once more, spoke with hope in his voice, trying to navigate the growing chaos. "Listen, Clara, this really needs to stop!"

Meanwhile, Clara was busy putting on her walking shoes. Engrossed in a fury foreign to her, she shouted back, "Why? So you can abandon me like everyone else? You're no better than my father. For that matter, you're no better than your own! I should've known you'd try to leave when times got tough. Always fleeing when the storm rages. All men are the same."

Adam’s face became a canvas of shock, bearing the mark of her words — a pain she had sworn never to evoke.

In a moment of clarity, Clara's eyes rested on the wilting Kalanchoe delagoensis, a reflection of her soul's storm. The room bore the scars of their combat, but the deeper wound was in Adam’s gaze, the love of her life: a tapestry of loss, yearning, and hurt. She had pierced the very heart of him.

Adam pleaded, "Get help, Clara. You're not the Clara I once called home." Feeling regretful and ashamed of her words, she stormed out, seeking solace in the rain. The gray skies above echoed the grief of her inner child. With each step, memories tormented her; ghostly replays of her father preparing to leave and a puddle that transformed into a younger Clara, arms reaching out, yearning for love, for an embrace she was long denied.

Desperate for a reprieve from this emotional onslaught, Clara pushed open the doors to the library. The familiar scent of old books embraced her, providing a brief escape from the relentless reminders of her tormented past. The library had always been a calming oasis for her. Here, surrounded by stories of countless souls, she felt her burden lighten. Yet, even in this sanctuary, fate had its designs. A gentle collision with an elderly woman walking by led to a book tumbling to her feet. As she grabbed the rather dusty book to hand to the woman only to see that she had already vanished. Almost as if she was never there. Curiosity took over her as she read: "Whispers of the Wounded: Reparenting Your Inner Child." Numb to the rest of the world yet completely compelled by an inexplicable pull, Clara began to immerse herself in its pages, seeking solace and answers.

Through research, she learned that summoning the inner child required love, nurturing, and protection. For weeks, she participated in rituals, searching for the right words and actions to soothe the relentless spirit. Unsurprisingly, the child resisted at first; she was well-known for her stubborn and fierce darkness. But Clara persevered. She hugged herself when the inner child cried out for an embrace. She whispered soothing words of love when the child demanded attention. Slowly, but surely the child's impulses began to dissipate into thin air as she received the care she had craved for so long.

The journey was arduous, but Clara was determined to heal her wounded inner child. With each ritual, the seasons of her life grew brighter. Clara rediscovered what a good day felt like — a touch of joy in her eyes and a sense of peace in her heart. The sun in her heart began to rise. 

Finally, the day arrived when Clara stood before the mirror that knew her best, her reflection radiating with a glimpse of self-love. She knew her inner child was no longer going to be a tormentor but a part of herself that got to experience pure love and a promise of protection.

Clara had faced a decision—to leave Adam, the man she loved more than herself, to save him from pain and to save herself, or to stay and risk falling off track and continining their destructive dance. She chose the former. It was one of the most painful losses she had ever endured, but it was also a profound gain.

Losing Adam became the catalyst for her journey of self-love. The focus shifted, and Clara found herself on a path of healing her inner child. She became the parent she had always needed, offering love, nurturing, and protection. The love she gave herself surpassed any she had ever received.

There were moments when doubt gnawed at her bones. Clara would find herself in front of a blank page, pen poised to write a letter to Adam—a letter of apology and longing. Adam was her person, and she was his. She wanted to go back, to undo the pain she had caused, but fear held her back. She felt too protective of herself at this point in the journey. The letter remained unsent.

As she continued to nurture herself back to health, mending the wounds of her past. The Kalanchoe delagoensis, the symbol of her journey, began to thrive once more, its leaves abundant and vibrant.

Slowly, the apparitions decreased. Instead of taunting screams, Clara began to hear giggles, and the playful voice of a child. Her home, once filled with chaos, began to radiate warmth and harmony. The inner child, once a source of torment, had transformed into a symbol of Clara's resilience and newfound self-love.

With time, Clara learned to fully embrace and nurture her inner child. She understood that healing was not about banishing the child, but about accepting, loving, and integrating her into her present life. A year passed, and Clara felt whole again. Her relationship with herself had never been stronger. On a quiet evening, she sat in her living room, reminiscing about her journey, when a familiar voice whispered in her ear, "Thank you for being the parent I always needed."

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Acknowledgment:

My sincere thanks to Reedsy for setting forth the challenge that inspired "The Inner Child’s Redemption". The "Monstrous" prompt asked us to explore the journey of an individual battling their own darker impulses. In responding, I journeyed through personal terrains and memories, crafting a narrative that speaks to both universal and personal struggles. The question of success or failure in resisting these impulses created a captivating and relatable tapestry of emotions for me. I'm grateful to Reedsy for this opportunity to introspect and share.

A Note About Inspiration:

Within the lines of 'The Inner Child’s Redemption', there's an echo from my past, a testament to my own soul's musings and struggles. As you navigate its narrative, know that it mirrors chapters from my life where phantoms of abandonment haunted my doorsteps and where the quivers of anxious attachment vigorously wove through my romantic liaisons. Yet, it was the quiet epiphany of inner child healing that illuminated my path to redemption. With this story, I wish to share that amidst our darkest nights, there awaits the promise of a radiant dawn — the calm after the storm — marking the journey of self-discovery and profound self-love.