Inner Child

My therapist asked me to close my eyes and imagine myself as a child. I always have to picture a photograph of him, because he doesn’t exist.

I chose a photo of my best friend Nicky and I atop the Empire State Building. It was my first trip on an airplane. We took a big yellow taxi to see Pokemon: The Musical at Radio City.

Nicky overdosed in his mother’s bathtub the day he got out of jail.

My therapist told me to tell my inner child something he should know about himself.

When I thought about what I would tell that happy little boy as we looked out at the city, I realized that it was not about him at all.

I told him how to be a big sister.

How to love himself for her.
How to love her when she doesn’t.
How to never blame her for our pain.
How to watch her cry and not get angry.
How to hold her close and cry together.
How to disagree and never with fists.
How to be the first to apologize.
How to compliment her brain more and beauty less.
How to share his spotlight.
How to be her biggest fan.
How to teach her to ignore him.
How to keep her safe.
How to pay better attention.
How to hear her cries for help.
How to not make excuses.
How to fucking do something about it.
Please please please do something.
How to feel fear rather than shame.
How to not let her disappear.
How to offer support instead of salvation.
How to let her try again.
How to let her try again.
How to let her try again.
How to never give up on her.
How to trust her again.
How to forgive her.
How to ask for her forgiveness.