Sleeping beings in the heart of memory

Within the depths of memory, our childhood sleeps like a newborn moon behind heavy clouds, our sleeping child in the heart of memory seen by no one but us. There, where silence is the only language, our selves dwell like birds trapped in a cage for years, fluttering fragile wings trying to break their bars, pecking at the windows of our souls from time to time.

In the heart of memory dwell selves still in childhood, not grown despite the passing years. A self from the time of childhood looks at us with eyes wet with confusion. A self heard by no one but us, sometimes laughing and other times crying silently. Those selves are us in our earliest beginnings, when we were too weak to protect ourselves, and too powerless to show our strength and hide our fear. It is us at the moment when the adults failed to grant us some safety.

We grew up, but that self did not grow with us; rather, it remained asleep in the heart of our memory, feeling for safety and awaiting reassurance. That self was not just a memory, but a living being residing within us.

In the dim corridors of memory, where our first secrets hide, our inner child sends us a distress signal, not with a voice, but with a trembling heart, a look of confusion, and a wound that bleeds with every memory. As if it holds our hands and leads us on the deepest journey, the journey to find the child we lost in the rush of growing up.

We move along with the years carrying deep inside us a child wounded by life. A child walking barefoot on a rugged path of difficult questions and harsher answers. A fearful child carrying in his eyes the memory of injustice, and in his heart remnants of pain.

Our sleeping child used to soar with imagination, creating worlds without limits. But when we grew up, we forgot the dream, burdened by the calculations of reality. Yet it remained asleep within us, not ending with the end of childhood; it took root and formed our identity. So it was necessary to befriend it, acknowledge its pain, apologize for every time we forced it into silence, and promise to provide the protection it never found.

This friendship is not meant to erase the past, but to turn its darkness into shining lights. The wounds that were the source of its pain become hope. Its old fear transforms into a deep understanding of the meaning of freedom, independence, tranquility, and safety. And acknowledging the existence of this child is not weakness, but strength. We do not flee to the past, but rebuild ourselves.

We give the child within us the love it missed, draw a safe home for it inside our souls, gently bend down, embrace it, and whisper into the ear of its suspicions: “We are here to protect you, and you are safe here, you are no longer alone.”

Adopting our small selves means restoring their right to dream, opening a window of light for them, telling them that safety is not a luxury, but a necessity for survival. And when we heal the child deep inside us, we do not only heal ourselves, but break the cycle of inherited violence.

We adopt our selves to give our children another model of the meaning of freedom and safety, teaching them to be free in their feelings, safe in their homes, protected from cruelty that is unjustified and unforgivable.

That child within us does not ask for the impossible; all it wants is for us to see it, to acknowledge its existence, to embrace it and walk with it gently. We may not change the past, but we can change our present and write a different ending to our story.

When we adopt our small selves, we make them partners in life, helping us raise our children. When we gently converse with them, understand their needs, and read between the lines of their pages, we have healed our wounds, broken the tyranny of violence, extended bridges between what was and what will be, and transformed pain into kindness, and cruelty into mercy.

It is a rebirth of ourselves anew, and a new childhood we live alongside our children. So let us extend our hands across the barriers of time, return to our childhood self, hold its small hand, and bring it out from the darkness of yesterday into the light of today. Then we will discover that we were not searching for a lost childhood, but for our selves that merged in our growing up, those that deserve love, care, protection, and attention. Adopting our small selves is the true meaning of becoming the guardian, refuge, and safety for ourselves and our children.

Journalist | Writer | Poet | Novelist | Literary Content Creator) Dr. Balqis Al-Kibsi