Watching My Son Grow While Healing My Own Inner Child

Watching my five-year-old son grow is like watching pieces of my own heart walk around outside my body. He is so much like me; it’s like watching myself grow up all over again. He’s so sweet and caring, feeling everything so deeply it almost spills over. He notices when someone is sad before they can even say a word. He carries emotions that were never meant for his small shoulders and somehow still worries about letting others down if he puts them down for a moment. I know that weight. I know the anxiety that creeps in quietly and then suddenly feels overwhelming. The racing thoughts that don’t switch off when the world goes to sleep. The tears that come during Disney films because you ache for happy endings, not just for the characters but for everyone who deserves one in real life, too. I recognise it all because I have lived it. I spent years masking who I was, trying to fit into spaces that never quite fit me back. Smiling when I was exhausted and pretending I understood rules…