the (inner) marriage

How I married my mother and raised her child.

When I think of my inner child I picture her. The only time I wore a fancy dress inside a church because I begged my parents to be baptized… but thats a story for another time.

The other day, I spoke to an acquaintance I hadn’t talked to in… probably a decade?
“Being an adult is occasionally really tiring, but also beautiful,” I said and we both laughingly agreed.

As a child, I remember how I glorified the freedom that adulthood seemed to offer.
I tried my best to age faster, believing adulthood was the ticket out , out of my storyline, the key to personal freedom.

Now I realize: freedom comes with responsibility.
Everything is possible.
Because everything is in your hands.

There comes a time in life when it’s time for marriage.
For me, that time was last night. Not the one most girls fantasize about (I’ve never been one to imagine my own wedding; I guess it will be a surprise), but an inner, subconscious one, taking place in the world of my dreams.

Two women dressed in white, with loose braids, holding hands. One was me. The other represented my mother, looking like a slightly older version of myself. She had a baby, and she seemed unprepared and overwhelmed to care for it.

We walked down the aisle.

I married my maternal parts.
I committed to mothering, to parenting myself.
To taking care of the inner child my own mother could not raise.

I strapped the baby close around my chest, with confidence and lightness, knowing that I now can care for the vulnerable, unprotected parts of myself.

Getting married in the way it’s understood in today’s society is not one of my life goals.

But I woke up realizing that maybe, I am ready for marriage:
First and foremost, the inner marriage.
The ultimate commitment to myself.
Knowing I am here for myself.
Knowing I can trust myself.
Knowing I am safe within myself.

Maybe that’s what maturity is?
Fully arriving within yourself, no longer seeking outside fulfillment for the parts that ache for attention and loving care.

Maybe maturity is also realizing that this process never ends.
That we are always growing deeper into ourselves.

Now that I am an adult, and somewhat mature, I do my best to weave playfulness back into my life.

To let my inner child roam freely through the gardens I have built for her.