We evolve, moving from young adults into full maturity, and sometimes during those seasons of evolving we make changes that signify our growth.
We change our style of dress, maybe the music we listen to; the food we now enjoy may have repulsed us as a young child; and for some of us, we change our name.
For me, when I reached my mid-30s, I went from Debbie to Deborah.
I remember clearly that afternoon.
I was sitting in a spiritual conference listening to the speaker and my mind was wandering. I had this overwhelming sense that I had reached a milestone in my life and it was time to go by my full name instead of the nickname of my childhood.
It was a knowing I felt resonate through my whole being. It marked a new beginning and path in my life.
As years passed, I became slightly annoyed if someone called me Debbie, without asking which name I preferred. I never thought much about why I was annoyed. Until recently.
I love my morning meditations, and especially on Sundays because I purposely leave that morning free to spend as long as I need to reset and re-center my mind, body, and soul. It’s a time of great reflection and, many times, of great creativity.
During this time, my intent for my Sunday morning meditation was focused on my heart. Allowing unlimited time for my heart to speak to me about anything that needed to be brought to my attention. I had found this to be a beautiful practice of expanding the voice of my heart and continuing expansion of my mind, heart, and body coherence.
This Sunday morning, a good 25 minutes into a calm and quiet meditation, I saw off to the left in my mind’s eye, me as a child, about four to five years old. It was a dream-like setting with a grey/white, hazy background. My hair was still dark blonde, curls at shoulder length, and I had on a pale blue dress. As I continued to look, I felt a sadness in my heart. The communication between us was telepathic.
I asked, “Why the sadness?” And then the memory of changing my name to Deborah was there. I was still puzzled as to why that would be a reason for her to be sad.
And then I understood, as I saw her countenance change when I made that decision. My inner child, at that moment, felt I was shutting the door on my own feelings of abandonment, rejection, and betrayal, which I associated with the name Debbie.
She also felt I had abandoned her. She lived with the imprinting of abandonment—something unknown and hidden from my conscious mind.
At the time of that decision, my conscious mind was coming from a point of wanting to move on. To leave behind the loneliness, abandonment, betrayal, fear of rejection, and all the things that made me look at my childhood with sorrow. I had no idea that my inner child, Debbie, took the changing of our name to Deborah as rejection and abandonment of her. I had no idea that the motivation behind doing what I thought would bring me freedom would result in shutting the door to her and her existence. That in trying to help myself put the past behind me, I was also rejecting a vital part of my identity. I was throwing the baby out with the bathwater!
We do what we can to survive and move forward in our lives, and end up abandoning the very root of our soul. I was shutting the door on the good memories. Of joy, love, and the budding of life and creativity that lived there. When my love for words and writing emerged. And even though there was much I wanted to forget, there was much I could no longer remember, for the child within me was locked away in safekeeping—or, so I thought.
Lightness and reconciliation came once I recognized what I had done and addressed this with my inner child.
Healing started to flow with the merging together of the whole soul. I wrapped my arms around that beautiful child whose desire was to be recognized and loved unconditionally. I brought her close—even closer—until I felt her and I become one.
It’s amazing how the brain, in its effort to save us from pain and keep us alive, will hide from us the motivation behind the actions we take to be safe and pain-free. And we wonder why we continue to struggle over certain situations, no matter how old we are.
Healing comes when our heart has been able to reveal to us the rooms that have been hidden. Rooms waiting to be discovered and unlocked.
We find on the other side of those doors, precious parts of our soul and quite possibly, the freedom we’ve been looking for all along—recognizing the child, and yes, the innocence that can still believe, live in wonder, and love unconditionally.
The end result: allowing those vital parts of our soul and heart to breathe, to speak, and to evolve back into the present version of ourselves.
It brings acceptance, validation, celebration, and unity of the soul.
No more hiding. No more locked doors. Because the mind understands the new directive. Unity, harmony, mind, soul, and body, working together as one.
This is where freedom lives in abundance.
It’s there in your heart, waiting for you to ask and listen. Waiting to be discovered.
The inner child—waiting to be called home.