Inner Child Work in Reverse
Embracing the Self You Were Yesterday.
We often hear about inner child work in therapy — the process of embracing the child within us. But what about embracing the version of ourselves from yesterday, last year, or a few years ago? That part of us often carries shame, and yet it holds the key to integration and wholeness.
Lately I’ve been noticing people creating AI images of themselves hugging their inner child. You’ve probably seen them too — tender, almost dreamlike images of an adult self holding the small child they once were.
It’s a moving idea. And in therapy and personal growth work, there’s often a focus on embracing our inner child — forgiving that little one inside who once longed to be loved, seen, accepted.
But it got me thinking… what about the version of us from a few years ago? Or even yesterday?
The Versions Of Ourselves We Try to Bury
Because here’s the thing: it’s often easier to forgive a child than it is to forgive ourselves as adults. We look at our inner child with compassion. We see innocence, vulnerability. But the “us” from last year, or from that project we’d rather forget, or that decision we wish we hadn’t made? That version feels harder to love.
For me, this came up recently when I thought about my first album. Part of me has always wanted to hide it. At the time, it was everything — raw, vulnerable, brave. But now, looking back, I see its imperfections. I see where it doesn’t sound like me anymore. And the temptation is to erase it. To bury it. To pretend it never happened.
But without that album, I wouldn’t be who I am now. Without that version of me — the one who was willing to create and share — I wouldn’t be here making the music and work I’m creating today.
The Lore of Yesterday’s Self
This is where the idea of lore comes in. Someone once told me that as artists, we need to have a lore — a story that people can follow. Too often, when we rebrand or reinvent ourselves, we delete the past. We remove the old songs, the early posts, the writing that no longer feels aligned. We try to present only the polished, current version. But in doing so, we cut the thread. We erase the very story that makes our growth meaningful.
And maybe that’s also where shame creeps in. We don’t just reinvent — we exile. We exile the version of ourselves from yesterday who wasn’t “good enough.” We exile the awkward first attempts, the experiments, the moments of vulnerability we now find embarrassing.
Integration Means Accepting Yesterdays Self Too
But isn’t integration about wholeness? In Nordic Mindfulness™, one of the BRAISS® principles is exactly that: Integration. And integration doesn’t mean polishing away the rough edges of our past selves. It means weaving them in. Letting them belong.
A few days ago, I wrote something in my journal — a manifesto of sorts — as a way of embracing those parts of myself I used to want to hide. The shitty songs, the broken projects, the decisions that didn’t make sense until years later. The versions of me I’ve tried to bury. The versions that still feel too close to forgive.
And when I tried to turn that idea into an AI image — me embracing not my inner child but my yesterday self — it didn’t work. The image never really looked like me. But maybe that’s the metaphor. Maybe it’s hard for us to truly see the versions of ourselves we’ve tried to forget. Maybe the work is not to perfect the picture, but simply to open our arms.
⸻
All of it is mine.
The shitty songs.
The great ones.
The almosts, the not-quites, and the ones I left behind.
The decisions I made in the dark.
The ones I made too fast.
The ones I questioned for years,
and the ones that cracked me open
to something I never would’ve found
any other way.
The men I loved.
The ones who never became.
The people who misunderstood me,
and the ones who never truly saw me —
they’re all mine.
The houses bought.
The places sold.
The lives I lived, and the ones I didn’t.
The dreams I couldn’t carry yet.
The ones I still will.
The things I’m amazing at.
The things I’m terrible at.
The projects that soared.
The ones that collapsed before they even took flight.
The confusion.
The clarity.
The fear.
The fire.
The parts of me I’ve tried to exile.
The parts I still hide.
The parts I wish were louder —
and the ones I’ve kept too quiet for too long.
All of it — mine.
The praise, the rejection.
The magic, the mess.
The truth I carry in every cell.
The forest that lives in my bones.
The wise voice that never really left.
The depth I’ve feared would make me unrelatable —
all mine.
My crown. My life.
Hugging Yesterday’s Self
So perhaps the invitation is this: don’t just hug your inner child. Hug the version of you who spoke too soon. Who wrote the post that no longer feels right. Who sang the song you’d rather forget. Who made the choice you now judge.
Because when we learn to love the “me from yesterday,” we make space to love the “me of today.”
And maybe that’s where real integration begins.
Tell me… What versions of yourself have you been trying to bury — and what might change if you chose to embrace them instead?
You can turn your answer into your own manifesto. Begin with the words “All of it is mine” and see where it takes you. Let every version of you find its place on the page — the brave, the messy, the unsure, the magical. Because believe me…all of it belongs.