We Are All Just Children In Grown Up Suits

We’re All Just Children in Grown-Up Suits: A Love Letter to the Wounded, the Angry, the Beautifully Human

I’ve been watching people.
Not in a creepy way—
in a curious, soul-scientist, sacred observer way.

I watch murder shows. Intervention shows. Hoarders.
People unraveling, people surviving, people hiding.
And what I see, over and over again, is this:

We are all just children
wrapped in adult skin,
carrying wounds we never had the words for.

We yell because we were ignored.
We control because we were powerless.
We overgive because love felt conditional.
We wear “discount” versions of ourselves because full shine felt unsafe.

Some of us rage.
Some of us shrink.
Some of us leave first so we can’t be left again.

But behind every angry person, every people-pleaser, every Karen, every ghoster, every road-rager, every avoidant partner…
is a little kid who once thought:

“They don’t love me.”
“They’re going to leave.”
“I must be too much.”
“I’m not enough.”

And why are those wounds so deep?

Because rejection and abandonment are not just emotions.
They are survival codes.

We are a social species.
To be left meant to die.
To be unloved meant no protection.

So we developed masks, roles, behaviors—
Not to manipulate,
but to stay alive.
We became likable, quiet, loud, smart, funny, mean, charming, forgettable—
Whatever it took.

And now here we are:
A planet full of grown-up kids,
Still trying to heal what wasn’t our fault in the first place.

But here’s the hope:

The body remembers.
And that means—
The body can also heal.

That healing doesn’t start with a course or a coach or a diagnosis.
It starts with something far simpler.

It starts… with a breath.

Because breathing was the first gift we were ever given.
The first proof we were alive.
The first yes from the universe.
And somehow, we spend our whole lives forgetting it’s still there.

We don’t need to fix everything today.
We don’t need to figure out every childhood memory.

We just need to pause.
And breathe.
And remember:

We were never broken.
Just scared.
Just wounded.
Just children in grown-up suits
trying to make it through without losing ourselves again.

Final Prayer:

To the parts of you that feel too angry, too needy, too distant, too much—
I love you.

To the wounded child still hiding behind a smile—
You don’t have to perform anymore.

To the adult wondering why life still hurts like second grade—
There’s nothing wrong with you.

And to the world:
May we all remember how sacred it is
to simply pause,
to simply breathe,
to simply be.
Together.