Grieving the Child We Wished We Could Have Been
By Jen Bennethum
Sometimes the deepest ache we carry isn’t for a person we lost, but for the self we never got to become. That tender inner child—curious, creative, brave—often feels abandoned by the expectations, judgments, and unmet needs of our early years. Grieving this lost possibility asks us to lean into sorrow, to name what was stolen or never nurtured: wonder, safety, freedom. When we give ourselves permission to mourn the child we wished we could have been, we begin to acknowledge the fullness of our experience rather than glossing over it with a forced smile.
“What happened to you isn’t your fault—but healing is your responsibility.” Gabor Mate
Allowing Anger to Speak
Anger can feel like an unwelcome guest, but it arrives carrying vital messages about our boundaries, our hurts, and the injustices we endured. Instead of shoving anger into a locked drawer, we can invite it to speak. In mindfulness practice, we might simply notice where anger shows up in the body—a tightening in the chest, hot flush in the face, tremor in the hands—and breathe with it. Naming it aloud (“I am angry that no one protected me”) cracks open the shame that keeps anger buried. In that space, anger becomes a guide rather than a threat.
Releasing Guilt and Shame
When anger arises, guilt and shame often rush in as bodyguards for our survival strategies. We tell ourselves we “shouldn’t” feel this way or that our pain is somehow our fault. But guilt and shame only chain us to the past. To loosen their grip, we practice self-compassion gestures: placing a hand on the heart, whispering a reassuring phrase, or drawing a boundary around our emotional space. These moments of kindness remind us that feeling anger, sadness, or disappointment does not make us “bad”—it makes us human.
Choosing Intention Over Excuses
Once sorrow and anger have been acknowledged, we can step into a new relationship with our lives—one grounded in intention rather than old survival habits. This means picking one small action each morning that honors our inner child: sketching, dancing with abandon, speaking up for ourselves. These intentional acts may feel tender at first, but over time they rebuild neural pathways for joy, agency, and self-trust. Instead of defaulting to avoidance or perfectionism, we learn to ask, “What would nurture that child in me today?” and then do it, moment by moment.
Rituals of Reintegration
Rituals help us tangibly connect past wounds with future hope. Lighting a candle to symbolize releasing shame. Writing a letter to our younger self and offering it forgiveness. Planting a seed as an emblem of growth and resilience. These rituals don’t require grand gestures; their power lies in deliberate attention. By creating small ceremonies, we solidify our commitment to moving forward with conscious care—transforming grief into a canvas for creativity and healing.
A Real-Life Example
Leah grew up in a family that prized achievement above all else. Curious daydreamer and budding artist as a child, she learned early that coloring outside the lines meant criticism. As an adult, she found herself feeling hollow, unable to tap into passion or play. In therapy, Leah began grieving the unmet needs of her inner child. She sat quietly each week, feeling the raw ache of loss, and allowed tears to fall without apology. When anger rose—anger at her parents, at the voice in her head telling her she was “not enough”—she learned to sense its warmth in her belly and channel it into journaling and movement.
Over months, Leah replaced her morning coffee ritual with five minutes of free drawing and a gentle vow: “Today, I choose curiosity.” She built a small altar with crayons and childhood photographs—a daily reminder that the child she wished she could have been was waiting patiently inside, ready at last to be loved.
Moving Forward
As you close this chapter of mourning the child you longed to be, remember that grief and anger are not detours but essential road markers on the path to wholeness. By honoring each fierce pang of sorrow and every spark of righteous indignation, you reclaim the parts of yourself that once felt lost or unworthy.
Let self-compassion be your compass as you choose small, intentional acts—whether drawing a single line beyond the margins of a page or speaking your truth in a mirror—to rebuild trust with the tender soul inside you. In these daily gestures lies your quiet revolution: transforming old wounds into wisdom, guilt into compassion, and shame into a fierce celebration of survival.
As you step forward, carry the memory of your inner child in your pocket like a beloved talisman, knowing that each breath you take is a promise to nurture, protect, and delight in all that you already are. Please let us know at Integrate Therapy and Wellness Collective how we can help walk with you on your journey to wholeness.
