I was around the age of 18, almost 19, when I noticed an internal shift happening. One morning, in an old cabin near a lake, I woke up and was praying when I felt like someone had come in and left something like a weighted blanket over my shoulders. I was sitting on the edge of a rickety bunk bed I shared with a friend from college, and I looked out the door toward Lake Carlos. In my chest, I felt this burden that my life would never be mine, and I thought this was a calling, but it was depression.
It has been almost two and a half years since I decided I was too young to feel so miserable (at any age, you are still too young to feel that miserable). The intensity of my depression has changed instead of weathering weeks of storms like before, now it is several days or weeks where I can't see past a fog. What's scarier about this depression is that I have normalized it to the point where I don't notice it's happening until there are fruit flies in my sink or moldy food in my fridge. It's not until I realize I have nothing clean to wear or that I should probably clean my bathtub.
In all honesty, my self-care habits have been difficult to keep up, and when my accountability to myself is weakened, so is my responsibility to other people and projects.
Here are some realizations I have been having:
I am overthinking instead of feeling. It is much easier for me to think about what is going on instead of feeling my emotions. By focusing on staying in the technical and "rational" side of my brain, I am tricking myself into thinking I am dealing with my feelings. Instead, I keep my emotions far enough back and confusing, worrying as processing my feelings.
Everything in my life is currently in this critical and analytic space. I talked with a friend on Monday, and I noticed all the books on my shelf were theory or history: "An African American and Latinx History of the United States," "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," "Zapata and the Mexican Revolution," "In-Between: Latina Feminist Phenomenology, Multiplicity, and the Self," "The Creative Interventions Toolkit," "Fumbling Towards Repair: A Workbook for Community Accountability Facilitators." There is nothing wrong with these books, and I recommend them, but this leads me to my next point.
The part of me that is in charge of my life right now is my parentified inner-child
Parentification, which is similar to but different from adultification, is the process of role reversal. A parent, either intentionally or unintentionally, expects emotional support and or gives developmentally inappropriate responsibilities to their children. Adultification has a racial component and has been researched by the Georgetown Center of Law Center on Poverty and Inequality, specifically on the impacts this has on Black girls and their childhood.
Parentification and adultification are remnants of colonization and imperialism in which children are subdued and forced into roles to uphold childism and adultism. It is the eradication of childhood joy and the destruction of self-autonomy to control a population and future generations.
I do not have the energy to link resources at this moment, but this is an area of study I am interested in as it ties directly into the social ills we see in society today.
Antifascists, anticonquest, and other far-left decentralized groups advocating for liberation and freedom are often groups where I find little nuance or acceptance around children and youth.
I am not the first to say this, but if you have never thought about this before, consider that it is impossible to embody freedom and liberation if you hate children because you still have your inner child within you. Part of being a better comrade is taking the time to reconnect, get to know, and love that inner child.
It is within childhood that we are first marginalized and oppressed. If not to the extent of parentification and adultification, we may still face childism/adultism. Or the belief that children should be seen and not heard. Objects to please rather than human beings to be understood and protected. It is within our own families or caretaking spaces that we are taught to deny our needs and desires to comfort and accommodate the needs and desires of adults. When adults are questioned on this force of authority, their response is simple: "I am older than you." This is our first internalized oppression, and I am guilty of using this excuse to get my siblings or youth I have worked with to listen to me.
Here is a graphic I found while looking up parentification and some of the behaviors a child who has been parentified will show:
If we are taught early on that our purpose is to please others' needs, when others act out their agency, it will be in direct conflict with our understanding of the world. We are celebrated when we deny our needs and emotions as children. I was always complimented for how well I took care of my siblings and for being so responsible. I was rewarded for not being fussy. But in this process, I was alienated from my inner-child.
There are days where I don't know who she is or what she wants. Instead, I live through weeks of fog, trying to understand why I am sad and unable to find joy. A few weeks ago, in therapy, my therapist asked me what I liked to do for fun. I stared at him as I tried to figure out what truly brought me joy and allowed me to restore and connect with myself.
I have internalized my oppression so profoundly that I cannot look back into my childhood and see a time when I knew how to play. I know how to "care" for myself, but playing and having fun are things so abstract and foreign to me that attempting to engage in them causes me to spiral. After so many years, this neglect of my inner-child has made me incredibly sick. Not only impacting my mental illness, but also my physical health and well being.
It is a radical act of defiance to allow my inner child to sob wildly. To let her feel her emotions loudly and without telling her, things could be worse. It is a radical act of defiance when I allow myself to daydream and imagine worlds I deserve to live in. It is a revolutionary act of resistance when I spend time writing and reading poetry and staring at the sunset.
When I make myself a crunchy peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When I let myself rest. When I hear her tell me, she feels unheard, and I affirm her. Every time I turn to her, I become a better me for tomorrow, and I need this because to love my inner child is to embody liberation and continue on this road to freedom.
I can continue denying her or I can turn to her and give her the love and affirmation she so desperately needed.