I used to think healing meant my adult mind would finally convince my heart that I was safe.
But today, I realized something deeper.
My mind knows I am safe now.
My mind knows it is okay to cry.
My mind knows I am not that little girl anymore.
But emotionally, part of me still feels younger.
Still waiting to be chosen.
Still wondering if love will stay when I have feelings.
Still learning that my worth was never supposed to be something I had to earn.
When Your Mind Knows, but Your Heart Still Hurts
There is a strange place you can reach in healing.
It is the place where your adult mind knows the truth, but your heart still feels stuck in the past.
Logically, I know I am not a little girl anymore.
I know I am safe with the people who are helping me heal.
Deep down, I understand that crying is not wrong.
There is also a part of me that knows I do not have to earn love by being quiet, perfect, strong, or easy to deal with.
But emotionally?
Emotionally, there is still a younger part of me inside that feels like she is waiting.
She is waiting to be picked.
She is waiting to be chosen.
More than anything, she is waiting for someone to say, “You are not too much.”
And honestly, that part of me is tired.
Healing Is Not Always About Knowing Better
One thing I am learning is that healing is not just about understanding what happened to you.
You can understand everything and still feel afraid.
The past can be over, but your body may still remember it.
Someone can be safe, and kindness can still feel uncomfortable.
Crying can be normal, but your nervous system may still react like you are breaking a rule.
That is the hard part.
As an adult, I want my emotions to catch up with my logic right away.
I want to say, “Okay, I understand now. I am safe. I can relax.”
Trauma does not always work like that.
Sometimes the mind gets it before the heart does.
The adult version of me knows the truth, but the younger version of me is still standing at the door, hoping someone finally opens it.
The Part of Me That Still Feels Younger
Today, I was talking to my therapist about this.
As an adult, I can say, “I know I am safe here.”
I can say, “I know she is not judging me.”
I can even say, “I know crying in therapy is not wrong.”
Still, there is another part of me that does not feel like an adult in those moments.
That part feels younger.
She feels like the little girl who had to hold everything in.
She remembers learning that crying could make things worse.
Her needs did not always feel welcome.
Love felt conditional.
Somewhere along the way, she started wondering, “What do I have to do for someone to choose me today?”
That is painful to admit.
I Am Grown, but Some Wounds Still Feel Young
I am grown now.
I have survived so much.
I have lost 200 pounds.
I have rebuilt parts of myself.
Starting over has become part of my story more than once.
I have carried fear, grief, anxiety, shame, and hope all at the same time.
Even after all of that, there is still a part of me that needs softness.
Not because I am weak.
Because I went too long without it.
When Rest Felt Painful Instead of Peaceful
One thing that came up in therapy was my inner child.
My therapist talked about “Little Antoinette” needing rest.
I know that may sound strange to someone who has never had to heal younger parts of themselves, but it is true.
When she said that Little Antoinette could rest, it hurt.
Not because my therapist did anything wrong.
Not because she was unsafe.
It hurt because that little part of me has been carrying so much for so long.
She learned to stay alert.
Holding everything in became normal.
Being strong started early, long before she ever should have had to be strong.
Why Rest Felt So Hard to Receive
When someone safe finally said, in a gentle way, that she could rest, something inside me almost did not know how to receive it.
Part of me wanted to believe it.
Another part of me felt scared.
Rest was not something I was always allowed to have.
Softness was not something I always knew how to trust.
Being cared for without having to earn it still feels new.
So yes, it hurt.
Maybe it hurt because it touched the place in me that has been waiting for permission to stop surviving.
Maybe it hurt because Little Antoinette has been tired for a long time.
Maybe those words reached a place in me that has needed to hear this for years:
“You can rest now.”
“You do not have to carry this alone anymore.”
“You are safe enough to let someone care.”
I am still learning how to believe that, but I think something in me wants to.
My Dad Hurt Me, and That Shaped How I Saw Myself
I want to say this carefully.
I am not blaming my dad for every single thing in my life.
Healing is more complicated than pointing at one person and saying, “Everything is because of you.”
As an adult, I also know I am responsible for my healing now.
But I would not be honest if I pretended his hurt did not affect me deeply.
My dad hurt me.
When the person who is supposed to protect you hurts you, it changes how you see yourself.
It can make you wonder if you are hard to love.
Your feelings can start to feel like a problem.
Softness can begin to feel like something you have to earn.
Being chosen may feel like it depends on being quiet, obedient, perfect, or easy to deal with.
The Way Pain Follows You
That kind of pain does not just disappear because you grow up.
It follows you into the way you love.
It follows you into the way you trust.
Crying can feel unsafe because your body remembers when feelings were not protected.
Your worth can become something you question, even when you never should have had to question it.
For a long time, I think part of me was still waiting for the kind of love I needed from him.
I wanted to feel protected.
I wanted to feel wanted.
More than anything, I wanted to feel like I mattered without having to prove anything.
That is one of the hardest parts to admit.
I Am Not Erasing the Truth Anymore
I am grown now, but some wounds still feel young.
I can understand things logically and still have a younger part of me that feels rejected, scared, or unchosen.
So no, I am not blaming my dad for everything.
At the same time, I am not going to erase the truth just to make the story sound cleaner.
What happened mattered.
How it made me feel mattered.
The way it shaped my self-worth mattered.
Now, part of my healing is learning that his inability to love me safely was not proof that I was unlovable.
It was never proof that I was not enough.
Nothing about his hurt meant I was hard to choose.
I was always worthy.
I just did not always have people who knew how to show me that.
Waiting to Be Chosen
For a long time, I thought being chosen meant finally receiving the love I had been looking for.
It looked like being fully seen.
It looked like someone staying.
In my heart, it meant someone making me feel like I truly mattered.
Now I am starting to understand something deeper.
Part of me has been waiting for my dad, or a man, or someone outside of me to prove that I was worthy all along.
At the same time, another truth has been rising to the surface.
Maybe the younger part of me is also waiting for me.
Maybe she is waiting for Adult Antoinette to turn toward her with the kind of love she has always needed.
Maybe she is waiting to hear:
“I choose you now.”
“I am not leaving you.”
“You do not have to keep proving you are worthy of love.”
“You do not have to stand outside your own life anymore.”
Learning to Stop Leaving Myself Behind
That realization hurts me in a beautiful way.
I spent so much of my life waiting for other people to choose me that I did not always realize how often I was leaving myself behind.
To survive, I made myself smaller.
I silenced my needs.
A lot of the time, I held back tears.
I tried not to be a burden.
Even when I was falling apart inside, I worked hard to look strong on the outside.
Each time I did that, the younger part of me felt alone all over again.
Why Crying Feels So Big
Some people cry easily.
They can let the tears come and move on.
For me, crying has not always felt simple.
Crying can feel scary.
It can feel like losing control.
Sometimes it feels like I am about to become too much.
My body remembers every time I was not allowed to have feelings.
So when tears come up now, even in a safe place, I do not always know what to do.
My adult mind says, “It is okay.”
My body says, “Are you sure?”
There is a part of me that wants to let go.
Another part wonders, “What if something bad happens?”
The Tears Are Not Only About Today
That is why healing takes patience.
Sometimes my tears are about what is happening right now.
Other times, they are for the little girl who could not cry back then.
On some days, I feel the weight of all the years I held everything in.
At other moments, I think I am grieving how unfamiliar safety still feels.
There are also times when tears come because part of me is finally starting to believe someone might stay.
Safe Love Can Feel Scary
This is something I wish more people understood.
Safe love does not always feel peaceful at first.
It can feel confusing.
It can feel uncomfortable.
At times, it may even feel boring compared to chaos.
You may find yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There may also be moments when you want to run, not because the safety is wrong, but because your nervous system is not used to being cared for without punishment.
When you are used to earning love, safe love can feel strange.
After rejection, kindness can feel suspicious.
If pain was normal for a long time, gentleness can feel almost too tender to trust.
That does not mean the safety is fake.
It may mean your heart is learning something new.
I Am Not Behind, I Am Healing
Sometimes I feel embarrassed that certain things still affect me.
I think, “Shouldn’t I be over this by now?”
But healing does not work on a perfect timeline.
There are parts of me that are strong.
Other parts are wise.
I have parts of me that can write, create, build, dream, and encourage other women.
Then there are still parts of me that feel small, scared, and unsure.
Both can be true.
I can be healing and still have hard days.
Strength and comfort can exist in the same body.
Being an adult does not mean I stop needing care.
It means I am learning how to care for the younger parts of me.
I can know I am safe and still need time to feel safe.
That does not make me broken.
It makes me human.
Choosing Myself Now
Today, I am trying to practice something new.
Instead of being mad at the younger part of me, I am trying to listen to her.
Rather than asking, “Why are you still scared?” I want to say, “Of course you are scared.”
I do not want to force myself to cry.
I also do not want to shame myself if the tears come.
My body deserves to move at the pace it can handle.
Instead of waiting for someone else to prove I am worth choosing, I want to choose myself again and again.
What Little Antoinette Deserved
The little girl in me deserved to be chosen back then.
She deserved softness.
Protection should have been normal for her.
She deserved to cry without fear.
Love should not have made her earn her place.
Even though I cannot go back and change what happened, I can do something powerful now.
I can stop abandoning her.
I can stop shaming her.
Rushing her will not heal her.
So I am learning to sit with her and remind her:
“We are not there anymore.”
“We are safe now.”
“You do not have to perform for love.”
“You do not have to be perfect to stay loved.”
“You are chosen by me.”
Becoming Is Not a Straight Line
This is what becoming looks like for me.
It is not always pretty.
It is not always peaceful.
Some days, becoming looks like crying in therapy.
Other days, it looks like admitting I still feel little inside.
There are moments when I realize I am safe, but my body still needs time to believe it.
Becoming can also look like choosing myself when I am still tempted to wait for someone else to do it first.
And maybe that is okay.
Maybe healing is not about never feeling young, scared, or tender again.
Maybe healing is learning how to hold those parts of yourself with love.
It may be about becoming the safe person you needed.
It may also be about finally telling the younger version of you:
“You do not have to wait anymore. I am here now.”
And maybe that is where the real becoming begins.
A Gentle Reminder
If you are in a season where your mind knows the truth but your heart still feels scared, please know you are not alone.
You are not weak.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
Sometimes the younger parts of us need more time to trust that things are different now.
Give yourself grace.
Offer yourself patience.
Let yourself receive the love you kept waiting for.
Because you are not too much.
You are not unchosen.
You are becoming.
And you are worthy of being chosen, even on the days you are still learning how to choose yourself.
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