Dil to baccha hai Jee (my heart is a child)

When I speak to my nephew, I am all love, even when he is angry at me and threatening to complain to his mom about me. And this is the funny bit — when in play, he takes a bite out of me and I tell his mom, she instead tells me to be a little stern with him and then pulls my leg because she knows I can’t.

I actually can’t be stern, not with this kid and for that matter any kid in the family or any kid period. I don’t know why I bother.

I was just reminded of the exercise we were made to do as part of our coaching, to write a letter to ourselves as a small child. I think it was in the context of self-talk, to always remember ourselves as that child and be kind to it. It just struck me that we could also be all love to that inner child, just as I am with my nephew.

I did write a letter to my younger self sometime back but couldn’t find it when I looked for it recently. It was something to the effect that I apologised for letting it down as badly as I have, but I thanked it for hanging in there, for not giving up on me, for surviving. I promised that I would make sure to do well by it, be the adult that it needed around it, and try to surround it with all the love and warmth it needed.

This reflection has led me to make some changes in my life. I’m trying to sleep early and wake up at a reasonable hour, not forcing myself to wake up. I do try and take a morning walk and then have a protein drink after. These might seem like small things, but they’re my way of honouring that promise to my younger self — creating routines that nurture rather than punish.

Beyond these physical acts of self-care, I’ve been writing about my experiences, my inner work, and my attempts to do better. I’m trying to be consistent with it. I’ve also realised that I’ve always enjoyed writing and I love it every time I come back to it. It’s not journaling yet — that form doesn’t call to me — but I’m finding my own way to document my journey.

Writing has become a space where I can process my thoughts, track my growth, and maintain that compassionate dialogue with myself. It connects me not just to my inner child but to aspects of myself that have remained constant throughout my life — my love for words, my need to make sense of experiences through writing them down.

What I’m learning through this process is that the unconditional love I naturally extend to the children in my life — that inability to be stern even when perhaps I should be — is exactly what I need to extend to myself. When I approach myself with the same patience, forgiveness, and love that I offer my nephew, I create space for healing and growth.

This journey of self-compassion isn’t always easy. There are days when I fall short of my own expectations, when I can’t find the words to write, when I skip my morning walk. But I’m learning to respond to these moments not with harsh self-judgment but with the gentle understanding I would offer a child who’s trying their best.

I’m grateful for these insights and for the opportunity to reconnect with my younger self through writing. By honouring that child within — by being “all love” to it — I’m gradually becoming the adult I needed when I was small. And in doing so, I’m creating a more compassionate relationship with myself in the present.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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