I was in the shower when a memory popped up out of nowhere.

I was in fifth grade. My aunt was driving me to school that morning. We pulled up to an intersection, and she fell asleep at the wheel. I shook her awake. She opened her eyes slowly and said, “I’m sorry, I’m still drunk from the night before. But don’t tell anyone — Grandma and Grandpa would be so upset with me.”

The rest of the ride to school was terrifying. She swerved all over the road, falling asleep mid-drive more than once.

I Finally Belonged

She was taking me to a private Christian school, the kind where most of the moms didn’t work. They volunteered, baked for the class, threw parties, and shuttled us to out-of-state events in shiny Suburban’s and Yukon’s.

They were always there — every morning and every afternoon — to pick up their children.

I was raised Seventh-day Adventist, and for all its structure, the religion had a youth program that I loved. It was similar to Boy Scouts — camping trips, rock climbing, drill team, derby races. When I joined, I finally felt like I belonged. Some of my classmates took me in, and I loved their families.

Still, I remember how people used to talk about the “troubled kids.” The ones from “broken homes.” Kids like me. We always thought that their parents enrolled them in our school because it was their last chance for their child to straighten up — to put the fear of God in them. Well, it worked for me. That first year of 5th grade was a tumultuous year for me. I went to 3 different schools and was pretty naughty at the private school.

I wonder now if they thought the same about me.

The Troubled Kid

I was the girl who showed up in clothes that smelled like cigarettes.

There’s a picture of me from that time — wearing black pants several inches too short. My clothes were always hand-me-downs or from Savers. New clothes came only on Christmas or my birthday.

My family was deeply dysfunctional. My grandparents had three children: one who was a conservative Christian and proud of staying “on the straight and narrow,” and two — my father and my aunt — who struggled with addiction, was in and out of jail or prison, and always causing some sort of chaos.

And as I write this now, I’m speaking to my inner child:

“That was not okay. You didn’t deserve any of it. You are loved just as you are. You are safe with me now.“

I held her hand as the memory replayed — the fear in the car, the helplessness — and I silently thanked the universe that I made it to school safely that day. I validated her. I made sure she felt seen and heard, soothed and supported.

Then, a realization hit me: I was a year younger than my daughter is now.

The Full-Circle Moment

That’s when my heart softened.

Because today, I show up for my kids. I take them to school and pick them up. They have everything they need — and a whole lot they don’t. That’s the life I wanted to give them, the one I never had.

And in that moment, I felt proud of myself. Truly proud.

I’m often hard on myself, always wishing I could do better, be better. But this process, this journey…reminds me to pause — to honor how far I’ve come. I really don’t give myself enough grace or gratitude.

What Healing the Inner Child Really Looks Like

Memories like these bring it all full circle.

This is what the healing journey looks like:
Going into the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves and sitting with them.
Holding space for what once hurt, with compassion and love.
Letting the tears come. Honoring the process and allowing it in.

And then — feeling gratitude for who you’ve become.

Inner child healing means looking back with understanding, recognizing how those experiences shaped you, and choosing not to repeat the cycles. It’s about noticing your triggers, your patterns, your beliefs — and asking:

“Is this belief true and supportive, or is it rooted in fear?”

That awareness is where transformation begins. It’s where you stop abandoning the younger version of yourself — and finally bring her home.

If memories like these are surfacing for you too — know that you don’t have to walk through them alone.
This is the kind of work we explore together in session: meeting your inner child with compassion, releasing old stories, and reconnecting to the truth of who you are.
You can learn more about these sessions here and begin your own process of remembering and returning home to yourself.

Much love,

Beth Reid