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Read part 1 first

Who was this girl, I wondered? I simply didn’t recognise myself. It wasn’t the costumes. This girl seemed confident, relaxed. She looked good. No, she looked great. Sexy.

She doesn’t look how I feel about myself. Who is this person? Did taking off most of my clothes liberate something? So carefree, so in love.

I could see… invisible layers of protection that I usually wore, were missing. Why?

Suddenly wracked with pain, sobs bubbled up from the depths. It was very confusing, I had no idea what was going on.

And then came the voice. Calming and knowing. As though someone was in the room speaking to me.

Go and lie down on your bed said the voice. Do it now. Get comfortable. Its time to look within. That girl in the pictures is you but to be her, you must let go. You must wake up.

Who was I to argue at this point in time?

I surrounded myself with cushions and pillows, like an island.

Here’s what you’re going to do. Close your eyes. Turn them inwards, down. Take them from your head and send them down inside your body. Find the pain. Once you’re there, you need to look at your life from your body’s perspective.

That might sound completely nuts to anyone reading this, but it made some kind of sense to me at the time. So I did just that.

I visualised my eyes coming loose from their sockets and travelling down my spine. Unsurprisingly, they settled in my belly region. Ah, so this is where repressed emotions live (kinda knew that)!

Perhaps I was in some kind of trance by this stage, but I “met”, well… a five year old version of myself! Or something like that.

We held hands, and we replayed the events of my life to date. Not the pleasant things ofcourse. We were here to look at the pain. The things that made me feel small, less than.

They flashed up one after the other. But this time I felt it deeply within my body. No suppression, no isolation. Fear and pain unplugged.

And the five year old me howled. The way a child cries when they think they’re truly alone and abandoned. She was scared and sad and no one heard her cries. Not ever.

I knew it was my job to help her. To make her feel better. To look at each event and say sorry for not noticing before. But I see it now, and let’s get through it together.

Every new scene brought hysteria closer to the fore. There weren’t too many, but enough: heartache, betrayal of trust, fear and disappointment. From each episode, an unresolved piece of the hurt had lodged itself deep within my body. I might not have been aware of it, but five year old me was. Until now, it had been her burden to carry in silence.

Hours went by, but eventually the pain subsided. From the top of my skull to the base of my spine, I distinctly felt like a wind tunnel had been erected. Sushumna. A sense of spaciousness pervaded.

But more than that, I now knew that deep within resided my child-like self, perpetually young and trusting. Wanting to be known, to be heard and loved.

Awe and wonder filled my waking moments, aware I’d experienced some kind of spontaneous energetic healing.

By the way, those photos were a hit! Originally I was going to post them to my love, but soon afterwards I was given instructions to go and pick up a plane ticket and get my ass over to the UK! To deliver them in person and share the last few weeks of his trip whilst his mate did other things.

Interestingly, this experience had a much further reaching impact. A little shy, the first night after arriving, I handed over my pack of photos and an accompanying letter and went to have a shower.

No surprises there – he loved them! But on a deeper level he got it – he could see the transformation I’d told him about.

For as I cast off the buried pain through that night, it seems my heart also grew lighter. More free.

With fewer layers of protection, it was easier to connect to the man I loved. Whilst, erm, sex had always been a good thing, I now seemed to have a whole new level of sensitivity and feeling. He noticed the difference too.

Poetically, I guess you could say my inner castle walls came tumbling down…

I’ve since come to believe that we all have this “inner child”. They represent who we are at a very basic level. They are our innocence, our trust, our belief in good things.

When our inner child constantly deals with repressed pain and suffering we start to close down and feel the need to protect ourselves. In doing so, we cut ourselves off from the world and even those we love. A vicious circle, but one we have the power to do something about.

Ofcourse, after I was assaulted, I had to go through a similar journey. Well, perhaps somewhat different. But nonetheless, I’ve had to shed the accumulation of emotional and physical pain stored in my body. To free my inner five year old once more.