Entering The Hallway

TW: Suicide, Self Harm, Childhood Trauma

Why I stopped trying to heal my inner child—and started listening to him instead

I learned to perform "good" before I knew I was performing.

As a young child, I cleaned my house and mediated chaos—not because I was helpful, but because I was scared. If I was useful, I'd be seen. If I was necessary, I'd be safe. This is fawn response, a survival pattern that hijacks a child's natural need for attunement and replaces it with hypervigilance.

By adolescence, I had layered spirituality on top. Devotion earned praise. Disowning my sexuality and performing “straightness” maintained belonging. The hollowness I felt wasn't clinical depression—it was structural dissociation. My self split in two: who I was, and who I had to be to survive. And I was good at it, I was a high performer, being able to function is school and in life fairly well.

Now I'm a trauma-informed coach and integartice counsellor. I guide others through their patterns. And I still catch myself performing worth—undercharging, over-giving, fixing fixing fixing to prove I deserve my place.

The neuroscience is clear: early relational trauma encodes implicit memory in the body. We don't think we're not enough. We know it. Chemically. Somatically. Before cognition kicks in.

Recently, something shifted. Not through strategy. Through presence.

Here's what happened—and how you might find your own hallway.

The Pattern

It started with familiar collapse: I'm not enough. Nothing will change. The hopelessness about money, love, visibility.

I asked myself: When did I first learn my value had to be proven?

The answer came immediately. A young part, alone, realizing that function earned connection. In attachment theory, this is anxious-preoccupied adaptation—love becomes conditional, vigilance becomes intimacy.

I traced the layers: the church where devotion was praised. The closet where I performed straightness while killing my actual self. The suicidal ideation in my family that I unconsciously monitored, believing my performance kept people alive.

This is developmental trauma—not one event, but chronic misattunement that shapes nervous system development. The exhaustion. The hypervigilance masked as competence.

The Hallway

The image that came: a young part in a bedroom. Door closed. Me in the hallway.

For years, I tried to "heal" him. Inner child work. Re-parenting. Subtly demanding he get better, trust me, come out fixed.

This time, I asked: What if I just stay?

No fixing. No convincing. No earning.

This is unblending—separating from our parts enough to witness without fusion. My Self-energy as it’s called in IFS, or as I call it, my Sovereign-energy (curiosity, compassion, calm) staying present so he could test safety.

So I stayed. He listened through the door. Checking: Is this real? Does he want something?

In polyvagal theory, this is the shift toward ventral vagal safety—the biological state where connection is possible. Not through words. Through neuroception. The body detecting safety below conscious thought.

The Negotiation

Eventually, he opened the door. Stood there. Wouldn't let me touch his shoulder.

I respected it. Somatic boundary—the body's truth before narrative.

Then he spoke:

"Don't let your grace be used to avoid accountability. Stand taller. Protect me. Stop performing to be loved."

In IFS, this is the Exile—the part carrying the original wound. Not the Manager (control, perfectionism) or Firefighter (distraction, intensity). The source.

I promised to do my best. Asked for patience. He nodded.

This is earned secure attachment—building internal safety through consistent, non-abandoning presence. Not technique. Relationship.

What Changed

Afterward: energy in my chest. Moving.

In somatic experiencing, we don't prioritize meaning over sensation. The body completes what it couldn't finish. Pendulation—activation and settling—resumes. Titration—touching the wound in doses—allows integration.

He's still cautious. Still angry. Still checking. This is post-traumatic growth, not cure. The goal isn't eliminating parts. It's transforming relationship to them.

From blended to witnessing. From exiled to included.

The Real Work

Most self-improvement is Manager-driven: optimized habits, fixed inner children, credentials of healing. It keeps the performance intact.

The real work is slower. Sitting in the hallway when you want to break down the door. Letting your Exiles speak without demanding gratitude.

My young part is out of the room now. Not fixed. In relationship.

I'm not performing healing anymore. I'm practicing being with.

Your Hallway

What's your version of this?

What part of you is still behind a closed door—listening, checking, wondering if it's finally safe to trust?

The frameworks help. But the work happens in the hallway. In the willingness to stop fixing and start witnessing.

How I Can Support You

I wrote this because it's the work I do—first with myself, then with others.

I guide people into their own hallways. Through the protective patterns, the survival adaptations, the performance of "good" that keeps us from the truth of who we are.

If you feel called to go deeper—to build a life grounded in Truth, Love, and Wisdom rather than conditioning and fear—this is what I offer.

Not quick fixes. Not performance. Presence. Skilled witnessing. The courage to sit with what's real until it transforms.

Work With Me — Let's find your hallway.

P.S. If this landed, I'd love to hear: What's the image that comes up for you? Where in your life are you still performing to be kept?