My inner child and their gender identity
It is becoming increasingly clear to me that there is an issue (or trauma?) regarding the gender identity or expression of my inner child. Five days ago I wrote:
"This is the second time I saw my inner child in a dress. What does this tell me? I don't want to say that I felt like a girl in my childhood, but it seems to me that there was an issue of gender identity, or non-conformity to (male) gender expectations, and it's something that doesn't surprise me. I doubt very much that I ever talked to my parents about this in my childhood, and I doubt very much that I ever dressed in a dress. But this doesn't mean that I wasn't uncomfortable with what they expected of me as a child, that I wouldn't have liked other things."
Yesterday, when I was meditating, thoughts came to me related to gender identity in my childhood - from my inner child. I couldn't let these thoughts go, I couldn't focus on my breathing again. I started to cry, and I had to interrupt the meditation to calm down.
Then, in bed, I connected with my inner child, as I usually try to do. Yesterday I saw them in their green dress and with their marbles, but very sad. They weren't playing, they just had the marbles in their hands. When they saw me, they came to hug me and cried. I had a hard time calming them down. I also told them that I understand them, that I like their dress, that I know that their parents don't understand them. They came out of my embrace to show themselves in their dress and they smiled. Shyly, but they smiled.
I asked them if they had talked to their parents about liking the dress, and they stopped smiling and just nodded their head no. They hugged me again and cried. I felt all their pain, and I cried too. They don't trust that their parents will understand them, and I understand that perfectly well. I asked them if the parents had seen them in their dress, and they didn't answer me, but cried harder, more afraid. I managed to reassure them again, telling him how pretty they are in their green dress. They smiled shyly again.
They lay down next to me to sleep, hugging me.
At night I woke up around 2:00h, and it took me a long time to get back to sleep - probably until 4:30/5:00h. When I realised that I was going to stay awake, the first thing I did was to check in with my inner child, reminding myself that the night before when I woke up I connected with my inner child, so I did the same again. I saw them without their dress, in a boy's underwear, next to me in a foetal position and crying. I don't know where their dress was. They wouldn't let me touch them. I tried to reassure them, also talking to them that I understand them, that with me they can be who they are, the way they are. In the end they hugged me, but without stopping crying. Little by little I was able to reassure them more. When I asked them where their dress was, they cried harder again. I comforted and reassured them again, looked them in the face and they allowed me to kiss them on the forehead. They went back to sleep hugging me.
I stayed awake. I was also still disturbed by the topic of the 8M performance, and how to bring this topic to a close. The truth is that just thinking about the performance affects me in the same way as thinking about the image of my inner child looking at my father's erect cock. It has been a re-traumatisation.
Then came the subject of the bullying I had suffered in my adolescence, but also before... Another subject that needs more attention, and, although I'm aware of the subject, I've never worked on it in depth. The issues add up...
I did a check-in with my inner child several times while I stayed awake. Many times just thinking about this check-in made my stomach contract, which already told me that something was wrong. Once I found them hugging me, crying and trembling with fear. I don't know what they were afraid of. They didn't tell me. I managed to calm them down until they relaxed and went back to sleep.
Another time I found them again in the foetal position and crying. I could do nothing but reassure them. I told them that they were safe, that I would protect them, and I told them that I would put my hand on their shoulder, and they allowed me to do so. Little by little they relaxed and went back to sleep next to me, hugging me. I think this time I went back to sleep too.
I woke up a few more times, but without staying awake. Finally I woke up for good around 9:30 am. I connected again with my inner child, sitting in their boy's underwear and very sad. They came to hug me and cry when they saw me. I couldn't find their green dress, so I told them we were looking for another dress. I asked them what colour they would like. Green? They indicated no. Black? I explained that I like my clothes in black, but they said no. Blue? Another no. Finally they said 'red'. We looked for a red dress, they put it on and smiled. They showed themselves in their new red dress, smiling and twirling around. And they came again to hug me, but this time smiling.
In the end I left them in their red dress, got up and went to breakfast.
I think it is obvious that there is an issue of gender identity or expression here. Almost two years ago I wrote about the trauma of masculinity, and that reflecting on the impact of sex assigned at birth brought me to tears. But I couldn't imagine a gender identity (or expression) issue even in my childhood. The truth is that I don't have any memories of my childhood either - no memories until I was 10 years old. But I am aware that I never felt like I fitted in, I always felt this pressure of expectations of masculinity. I had no idea what 'being a boy' meant.
But what I'm coming up with now with my inner child is something completely new to me. At the same time maybe I'm not surprised. And it doesn't surprise me that my parents didn't understand me. I doubt very much that as a child I tried to live like that, that I only once wore a dress (my mother's? my little sister's?). It is very clear to me that the rejection of my parents would have been enormous, if not violent. In a way, that's what my inner child tells me: the fear of my parents' reaction. Or, had they found me once in a dress? My inner child didn't answer this question, they only reacted by crying harder.