How.Often.Should An Eleven Year Old Non Active Boy Bathe The Inner Child’s Perspective

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The Inner Child’s Perspective

A recently received letter alerted me of the inner child I created decades ago. An included, but incorrect invoice prompted me to pick up the telephone to alert a company that I had been incorrectly charged for a service. But as I reached for it, anxiety about the potential confrontation coursed through me and I strangely felt unable to dial the number.

Audibly speaking to myself, I said, “You have multiple degrees and worked in the capacities of management, teaching, and writing. And now you’re trying to convince me that you can’t dial a phone? What are you-two-years-old?”

I stopped in my tracks. It was precisely at that age that I created my inner child and it not only could not dial a telephone, but it convinced me that I could not do so as a grown adult. It both influenced and hijacked me, indicating the dichotomous nature of my adult child life, during which I had, for the most part unknowingly, engaged in an internal conflict in which my inner child had fought for its needs while I had wrestled for my own. There were times it had actually won.

This begs the question: what exactly is the inner child?


Exposed to danger, detriment, instability, and even abuse during an alcoholic or para-alcoholic upbringing, a child is forced, without power, maturity, tools, resources, or understanding, to create what is known as the “inner child” by spiritually escaping within and burying himself in his deepest physical recesses. Like a protective cocoon, it serves as a sanctuary. Left with a distorted, distrusting view of people, places, and things, he–through the ultimate adult–only understands the lens he was forced to adopt because of his circumstances.

While the adult may consider these distortions irrational or illogical, they were not to the infant he once was when he experienced them.

“The cause of codependence is a wounding of the true self to such an extent that to survive, it had to go into hiding most of the time, with the subsequent running of its life by the false or codependent self,” according to Dr. Charles L. Whitfield in Co-Dependence: Healing the Human Condition (Health Communications Inc., 1991, p. 22).

The real, or true, or authentic self is the very expression and reflection of God. It is intrinsically endowed with trust, beingness, spontaneity, ad love. It surrenders to itself, to others, and to the universe. But when intolerable conditions exist, it is forced to seek refuge and replace it with the false or pseudo-self.

“Our false self is a cover-up,” according to Whitfield in another of his books, Healing the Child Within (Health Communications, Inc.., 1987, p. 11). “It is our aggressive ego or super ego, forever planning and plodding, continually selfish and withholding. It is envious, critical, idealized, blaming, shaming, and perfectionistic.”

Abuse, in its extreme forms, may not be the only reason that the inner child is created. Parents who endured their own adverse and dysfunctional upbringings, yet remain ignorant to or in denial about them, project their stored, shelved, and squelched fears, angers, and inferiorities onto their children, especially when they are triggered, as if they serve as reflections of them. So repressed and bottled up are they, they that cause an unleashed storm of negative, uncontainable feelings and emotions, which their children unknowingly absorb, internalize, and erroneously believe are their own.

“As children, we took responsibility for our parents’ anger, rage, blame, or pitifulness,” acceding to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (World Service Organization, 2006, p.7). “We were children, but we unknowingly took responsibility for our parent’s feelings and poor behavior. This mistaken perception, born in childhood, as the root of our codependent behavior as adults.”

“In a need to stabilize the parent and to survive, the child denies that the parents are inadequate and bad, and internalizes their projected inadequacy and badness, plus a common fantasy,” Whitfield explains in Co-Dependence: Healing the Human Condition (op. cit. p. 27). “‘If I’m really good and perfect, they will love me and they won’t reject or abandon me.'”

This echoes one of the Adult Children of Alcoholics survival or so-called Laundry List traits-namely, “We are dependent personalities who are terrified of abandonment and will do anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to experience painful abandonment feelings, which we received from living with sick people who were never there emotionally for us.”

Aside from the fantasy that results from the child’s view that his God-equivalent parents are perfect and that any adverse or abandoning actions are due solely to his own inadequacy and undesirability, there is an even deeper reason for his belief. As long as he views his mistreatment as the result of his actions or flaws, he clings to the last thread of hope that he still has some degree of mastery over the situation, avoiding full acceptance of his powerlessness over and vulnerability to deficient caregivers.

“(But) no matter how distant, evasive, or even alive it may be, we each have a child within-the part of us that is ultimately alive, energetic creative, and fulfilled,” Whitfield explains in Healing the Child Within (op. cit., p. 9). “This is our real self, who we truly are.”

Yet those who were forced to place it in suspended-time and -development exile and replace it with the false self, have no recollection the strategy they implemented as infants or very young children to survive. As a result, it remains mired in fear, yet continues to exert its influence on the adult. While it was once a necessary child sanctuary, it ultimately becomes an adult prison.

But there may be one than one inner child in such dysfunctional families.


Although it is important to understand the inner child’s manifestations, it is equally important to realize that the parents who spark its creation often act out of their own. Unless they realize its existence and seek to heal it through therapy, twelve-step recovery, or another modality, they will retain it their entire lives and inflict damage and dysfunction on their own offspring.

“When a child’s development is arrested, when feelings are repressed, especially the feelings of anger and hurt, a person grows up to be an adult with an angry, hurt child within him,” according to John Bradshaw in Home Coming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child (Bantam Books, 1990, p. 7). “The child will spontaneously contaminate the person’s adult behavior.”

This applies both to the parent and his or her offspring, since both, without intervention, have inner children that were created at the moment of infection of a disease of body, mind, and soul. Both were deprived of two fundamental aspects that could have fostered growth, developmental autonomy, and self-confidence: parents or primary caregiver that supported their needs, and a very early sense that they were important and hence valued.

Subjected to criticism, blame, shame, instability, fear, and even abuse in its many forms, they sustained soul wounds and resultantly adopted numerous manifestations later in life that pointed, like the needle of a compass, to their origins, but which were most likely not understood and interpretable. These include the many adult child characteristic survival traits, such as isolation, distrust, a fear of intimacy and authority figures, and the need to people-please, along with codependence and even narcissism.

While they may believe that their unresolved traumas and wounds have faded into their childhood pasts, they surface in two principle ways that indicate that they have not. They either act them out or act them in, both indicating that, contrary to how they may present themselves to the world on stage, that there are unresolved issues that lurk behind it.

In the former case, acting out can include “re-enactment of violence on others; doing or saying to our children what we said we’d never do; spontaneous age regression, (such as with) temper tantrums, being inappropriately rebellious, (and) carrying on idealized parental roles,” according to Bradshaw (ibid, pp 14-15).

Acting in can assume many manifestations, such as physical maladies with emotional origins, like elevated blood pressure and heart rates, ulcers, hives, gastrointestinal difficulties, muscle tensions, panic attacks, insomnia, recurring nightmares, and a host of anxiety disorders.

Because they had their origins early in life, where, it can only be wondered, did all these manifestations go, since they may have lain dormant and failed to exert their influences on the person until they were triggered, activated, and surfaced by means of their acting out or in methods?

An adapted biological response for inhibiting pain results from neuronal gating, the means by which information within the three-part reactive, emotional, and rational brain is controlled.

“What we call repression may take place primarily at the gate between the thinking and feeling brain,” explains Bradshaw (ibid, pp 74-75). “To put it in the simplest way possible, when the emotional pain in the limbic system reaches overwhelm, an automatic mechanism shuts the gate into the neocortex (the brain’s upper, rational area).”

During retriggering incidents, however, parents regress to their wounded inner children, acting from their hurts instead of their hearts and projecting their unresolved emotions onto their offspring, who serve as displaced, time-suspended representatives of them, in an attempt to finish out their traumas and restore themselves. As if possessing dual personalities, they leave adulthood and return to childhood. They are no longer parents during these times and, in extreme cases, can become predators.

Traumas, whether expressed by a child or the child his parent once was, rob both of security and trust and stunt development.

“The earlier the emotions are inhibited, the deeper the damage,” according to Bradshaw (ibid, p. 72). “There is growing evidence that there is a sequence in brain maturation which basically follows the evolutionary sequence of brain formation.”

Since an adult must deal with and understand his inner child’s viewpoint, he must ask himself what his perspectives are.


Aside from the previously mentioned hesitation in confronting a potentially conflictive situation on the telephone and the inability to make that call, what are some of the inner child’s other perspectives about himself as a time-suspended, trauma-created part? An examination of a dysfunctional upbringing provides many clues. One of them points to feelings.

Exposed to the subtly and silently imposed rules of “don’t’ talk, don’t trust, and don’t feel” to maintain the alcoholic or para-alcoholic family system, the inner child was unable to express positive ones. Forced to squelch and swallow negative experiences it could never express, it becomes backed up like a clogged drain until numbness finally set in.

Because it last experienced the fear that prompted its creation, it views the world with it.

Another of its aspects are its wants, wishes, and desires. Toxically shamed children, who are erroneously led to believe that they are flawed or even abnormal for generating such needs that are not always met and that dysfunctional parents sometimes suppress, do not feel that they are healthy aspects of themselves.

The “don’t trust” part of the unspoken family rules is also a significant aspect of the inner child’s reality. Seemingly able to identify truths, such as dysfunctions, arguments, and conflicts its parents either deny or are unable to accept, it quickly learns to distrust its own observations, perceptions, and sixth-senses when it vocally expresses the realties to which it is exposed. But it is often shut down with nullifying statements such as “That’s not happening” or “That’s just nonsense.”

“Children who get these kinds of messages quit trusting their own senses,” advises Bradshaw (ibid, p. 194). “Without sensory data, it’s hard to live in reality… We need our inner child’s sensory expertise.”

The natural response to noting that something is wrong, especially when other family members seem oblivious to it, is the expression of it. Aside from failing to identify it, this otherwise desirable truth- telling also protects the family dysfunction from being exposed to the outside world, which may never suspect that it exists.

“Early on, your natural inner child learned to adapt in order to survive,” Bradshaw points out (ibid, p. 195). “In dysfunctional families, there is a lot of lying (to shield the outside world from the truth). The delusion and denial that surround the family is a lie. The false roles (like hero, scapegoat, lost child, and surrogate spouse) family members play are lies.”

Another inner child facet is its loss and lack of spontaneity-of sheer beingness-which is its intrinsic essence. It remains mired in its protective cocoon because it was exposed to instability and danger. Shamed, controlled, and often retraumatized, it was forced to retreat deeper into its shell. The absence of trust is the opposite of presence and beingness.

Yet another inner child perspective is expressed by the often-stated, “I want what I want and I want it now” tirade. It is not an adult and therefore cannot see the world through these mature eyes. It was never surrounded by walls of patience that put on hold what it wanted for later delivery of it. It does not understand the concept of delayed gratification that age breeds.

“(Inner children) have a low tolerance for frustration and delay,” Bradshaw advises (ibid, p. 197). “Part of growing up is learning to delay gratification, which helps reduce life’s pain and difficulties.”

Another inner child perspective is its need for perfection. It abhors making mistakes and the shame and criticism that often result from doing so. In fact, making a mistake can be equated with being a mistake, an annihilation of the self. So distasteful is it, that it was adopted as one of the Adult Children of Alcoholics” survival traits, which states, “Personal criticism we take as a threat.”

Part of the remedy comes from understanding the difference between toxic and healthy shame. The former is the judgment and resulting belief that the person is flawed to the core, while the latter serves to correct and restraint future behavior, as in “I felt ashamed of myself when I found out that one of my jokes hurt her. I won’t do that again.”

“Healthy shame allows you to make mistakes, which are an integral part of being human,” Bradshaw explains (ibid, p. 199). “Mistakes serve as warnings from which we can learn life-long lessons. Having permission to make mistakes allows our inner child to be more spontaneous.”

Finally, because of the fearful and traumatic circumstances that necessitated its creation and its time- and tool-suspended state, it views the world through a clouded lens and fails to understand life. It cannot comprehend how and why others, who did not endure its upbringing conditions, are able to do what they can. Both the inner and later adult child do not see life as something to live and embrace. Instead, they see it as a series of distrusting interactions with others and a collective problem to be solved.

In retrospect, to the adult who was forced to create his inner child to survive detrimental circumstances he should never have faced, but no longer remembers doing, the inner child itself is the problem to be solved. Reduced to a dichotomous, almost dual-personality, the adult child engages in a daily conflict with a part of him he himself created, often straddling the line between his child side then and his adult side now.

It takes considerable work, understanding, and recovery to reverse his once-necessary action. But, once again, the ability to do so rests within him-this time in a reparenting role.


“The solution (to the inner child dilemma) is to become your own loving part,” according to Adult Children of Alcoholics twelve-step recovery meetings.

“Becoming your own loving parent… requires that we accept the reality of the inner child,” according to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (op. cit., p. 296). “The child within is our original identify which knows how to love and trust freely. We become willing to consistently seek out and integrate the inner child into our lives.”

There are several schools of thought about becoming a parent, especially to the inner child. One involves a lack of experience and the childhood exposure to poor role-modeling.

“Since most of us are from dysfunctional families, we really do not know how to be nurturing parents to our inner child,” according to Bradshaw (op. cit., p.181). “Our wounded inner child is childish. He was either overdisciplined or underdisciplined. We must become good, nurturing disciplinarians if we want our wounded inner child to heal.”

Another school of thought indicates that parenting skills were forcibly adopted at an early age when the oldest sibling, replacing a physically or emotionally absent, incapable, or at times intoxicated adult parent, assumed this surrogate role by taking care of his younger brothers and sisters. This replacement, which robbed him of his rightful playful, nurturing development and required that he grow up very quickly, often resulted in the reading of bedtime stories to younger siblings, helping them with their homework, washing their clothes, and making their lunches so that they could take them to school each day. Although this role constituted a subtle form of abuse and certainly the misuse of a child, it somehow ensured family system functioning.

The final school of though is that the love needed for this inner child reparenting role already exists within.

“For many ACA members, the child within represents our true self,” the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook points out (op. cit., p. 302). “This is the part of us that is our original being. The inner child has original trust, original belief, and original love.”

But tapping into that “original love” requires regaining “original trust” between the inner child and what became his adult counterpart as he matured, and that necessitates time and concerted effort. After all, the inner child operates from defensive fear.

Part of the reparenting process entails understanding the inner child’s perspective-that is, how it thinks, feels, and views the world from a time- and developmentally-arrested sanctuary. It may be shocked to learn, for instance, that the year is 2020 and not the 1960 or 1970 or 1980 period when it was created and when all time stopped for it. Its last view of people, especially its own parents, was the one that caused its retreat from danger-and this is how it continues to perceive.

Another part of the reparenting process is establishing new rules that are mostly the opposite of the ones to which it was exposed. The most significant ones are the subtly applied, but never actually articulated, family system-maintaining “don’t talk, don’t trust, and don’t feel” ones.

Gentle corrections entail explaining that is all right to do these things because they are natural needs and endowments of the soul, but that it was not all right that its attempts to do so were denied and shut down by parents who were unknowingly influenced by a disease they could not understand. Feelings are neither right nor wrong: they just are.

These toxic rules teach a child to distrust his own observations and reality. Reparenting here entails emphasizing that he was probably accurate in his observations, but that his adult parents at the time taught him to deny them in order to plug into the alcoholic or dysfunctional family lie.

Another lesson reversal is that it is normal and healthy to have needs, wants, and desires. But some children are toxically shamed for having them, as if they are flawed or abnormal for doing so.

Again, reparenting requires a correction. What was wrong was not the wants, but the self-serving parental needs to intercept and judge them. The inner child must be given permission to have these desires now.

Shamed, controlled, exposed to instability, and stripped of safety, a child loses trust, spontaneity, and playfulness. He must slowly regain trust and, when he does, be granted permission to have fun, to just be, without looking over his should in anticipation of the next blame or danger. This very goal is expressed by one of the twelve Adult Children of Alcoholics fellowship promises resulting from program recovery of “We will learn to play and have fun in our lives.”

An extension of this is adequate self-care and “me time,” which can range from a simple bubble bath soak to a seven-day cruise.

Because children want what they want and they want it now, they must be taught to delay their gratification. The inner child needs the same lesson. It does not understand the concept of patience, that its desires may be granted, but at a later time. An effective reparenting method is promising things, like sweets, treats, or something bought in a store as a reward if it practices patience and then reliably delivering it.

“I promise to give you that chocolate bar you want, but you have to wait until I finish cutting the lawn.”

Progressively increased periods between promises and deliveries will further foster inner child patience.

Dysfunctional upbringings often breed perfectionistic-striving-that is, the attempt to be as perfect a person as possible to avoid criticism and shame and perhaps make one more feeble attempt to gain that love and acceptance from a parent who does not necessarily have them to give.

The inner child must be taught that it is okay to make mistakes, that no single person is or can be perfect, and that they are part of the human condition and not a reflection of the person’s inferiority or lack of worth.


Reparenting the inner child requires the adult’s unconditional permission to be himself, to be the person he was created to be, but never could fully achieve because of his upbringing circumstances. In many ways, the inner child is the result of having been parented by people who were unrecovered adult children themselves.

“Recovery is accepting yourself for who you are (and) no longer waiting for rothers to define you and approve of you,” the Adult children of Alcoholics textbook concludes (op. cit., p. xxiv).

Article Sources:

Adult Children of Alcoholics. Torrance, California; World Service Organization, 2006.

Bradshaw, John. Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child. New York: Bantam Books, 1990.

Whitfield, Charles L., M.D. Co-Dependence: Healing the Human Condition. Deerfield Beach, Florida: Health Communications, Inc., 1991.

Whitfield, Charles, L, M.D. Healing the Child Within. Deerfield Beach, Florida: Health Communications, Inc., 1987.

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