Graphic by Lily Johnson
There are three people in my own unrequited love story: me, myself and I.
I’m a diehard extrovert by definition. I replenish my energy bank by being around others and am constantly surrounding myself with other life forces to do so. Pre-coronavirus, this meant lying on the couch while my roommates cooked dinner just so I could physically soak in their conversation. In the pandemic AU that we’re living in, this means sitting in silence with someone on Zoom, fueling myself with the virtual presence of another person. Is this reasonable? I used to think so. I used to justify the nonstop search for social contact using my extreme, totally selfless love for my friends and family and community and oh the beauty of the mundane in humanity how wonderful it is to live knowing others! Now, I realize it’s just because I don’t like being alone, specifically, with myself.
My undying love for my friends hasn’t changed; if asked, I would lie flat in front of the D train for any one of them. But recently, and specifically during the isolative nature of the pandemic, I’ve realized that I’ve been hiding behind the shield of my extrovert identity to avoid alone time. Since March 2020, it’s become increasingly apparent that I am uncomfortable and unsettled by my lonesome. I never learned how to sit in my own skin, be with my own thoughts and exist just for myself. I’ve spent 20 years on this big blue planet not knowing who I am alone and it is absolutely for lack of trying.
Like twin flames, one me is the pursued and the other me is the pursuer. For years, an internal pursuer, Little Dweeb Voice, has been desperately searching for validation and attention from the only person that understands them, its Juliet. And the pursued Juliet has been violently shoving the annoying-ass, eager-ass voice away for years. “Why would I talk to them? They’re so annoying!” Even though the two have been in close proximity their whole lives, Juliet despises Little Dweeb Voice for all the negative aspects that remind them too much of themselves and all their glaring differences in maturity and self-awareness. At risk of sounding unhinged, I’ve discovered that I’m directing, writing, starring and producing this one-woman show inside of me every single day. By refusing to spend time alone for so many years, I’m only just hearing my internal pursuer and recognizing that self-love doesn’t only consist of loving who I am now.
The enemies-to-lovers narrative I just pitched can be described in a much more graceful way as healing your inner child. Look, I also used to think this was an abstract, stuffy and irrelevant concept. But I really want to encourage you to try and find the younger self that still lives in your bones. You might find them in how you’ll still listen to the same Fall Out Boy album when you’re angry or the way reading Marauders fanfiction still comforts you. You might find them in the ways you react to or cope with confrontation or stress. There are younger parts of us that are fossilized in our every habit and when we ignore them or push them to the side, like a pubescent preteen faced with any rejection, they will absolutely cry.
But that younger you inside of you is still you and when they’re hurt, you’re hurt too. Ignoring my internal middle school self has left me to carry around unnecessary amounts of tension and even pain. By rejecting the absolute yearning my younger self is doing for the attention of my older self, I’ve pushed aside healing the t-word (*trauma*) and hurt that sits in my skeleton. And while the hurt I experienced at those ages wasn’t my fault, it’s my older selves’ responsibility to heal that hurt so that I can grow, change and release it.
Like me, you probably strategically avoid thinking back on the well-catalogued Barbie editions of your younger self. Everytime “Way Too Into Hamilton And Oversharing Tenth Grade Kayla” or “So Fucking Sensitive 12-Year-Old Kayla That Is So Angry At The World For No Reason” crosses my mind, the full body physical cringe I experience could shift New York’s nonexistent tectonic plates. It is so ridiculously embarrassing to look back on your past selves and the mistakes they made because of what they hadn’t learned yet. But all those versions of you had their own hurt. And, at least for me, that’s what makes them so earth-shatteringly painful to look back on. As frozen in the past as they may be, they still deserve patience and love as they grow through the hurt they’ve experienced. Over everything, all my younger self wanted was to be accepted, and I’m finally accepting them, shaky eyeliner, cakey foundation and all.
We all wish we could change aspects of our past and with healing your inner child, you sort of can. You can raise yourself exactly the way you wish you had been or give yourself the comfort you needed during painful times, through comforting yourself in the way you weren’t able to at that time. Be the cooler older sibling you wish you had, and tell your younger self all the things you wish you had heard. “You’re actually so pretty!” “I love your ideas!” “You have a great sense of humor!” “I love you!” Maybe, with all the age and wisdom you’ve accumulated since you were that immature little voice, you’ll start to believe all those crucial, self loving sentiments.
This season of Cupid is the perfect time to direct love towards your newfound, oldest friend. Blast all the love songs that are currently saturating Spotify and pick your favorite ones, the ones that are the most personal to you. Think of your younger self while listening to them. As absolutely cheesy as this sounds, use a soundtrack to try and fall in deep platonic love with your younger self. Give yourself a tight ass hug and just let out the tension and grief in whatever way it manifests. Your inner child will feel your love, and both of you will feel so much relief.
Meditations like that one, affirmations and journaling are all massively valuable ways to reparent yourself, but even if that’s not your speed, there are tons of other ways to hang out with your younger self! Your inner child loves to play, is insanely sensitive and is looking for friends. So, even just doing things you loved to do when you were younger (and not judging yourself for how good you are at them, just enjoying them!!!) are steps to take toward loving that inner little you.
So congratulations, you’re a parent! You have a younger you existing inside of you in some sort of Lizzie McGuire tiny cartoon manifestation to care for. Recently, I’ve set out to get to know mine and she’s pretty cool (boy does she love hearing that). We’ll watch old concert videos, complain about her family and doodle like she used to. And this whole time, I think that if I had just spent some more time alone, I might have heard her literally screaming for my attention. In obsessively making plans with friends, I didn’t know I had to invite my younger self to hang out too.
I’m still a beginner inner-child healer, but this Valentine’s Day, I’m gonna concentrate on falling in love with myself (says my internal “Sex in the City” divorcée experiencing a mid-life crisis). Instead of FaceTime-ing a friend for the 15 minutes I have between classes, I’m forcing myself to just stare out the window or water my plants with nothing but my thoughts as music. And when I’m doing that, I’ll chat with the geeky fucking emo 14-year-old inside of me.