From Romania with Love: Healing the Inner Child

I don’t even know how to start this blog. There’s something I experienced on my recent trip that I believe everyone should go through in their lifetime. That is why I am writing about it. The reason is that no matter how old you are, it is never too late to open your heart and connect with the people you love.

This story started back in communist Romania. Growing up in the Eastern Bloc, I was told that real men don’t cry and that expressing your feelings is a sign of weakness. Being raised to think feelings are enemies, you can only imagine what that did to a little boy. It forced me to fight from an early age, ignore, and bury all my feelings deep down, making me pretty good at pretending everything was alright while scrambling to figure out what was going on inside. Basically, it was a complete mess, and I was carrying it with me like a backpack throughout my life.

In the old days, in my family, you weren’t tucked in at night, and our mom didn’t kiss to make it feel better. Just because we didn’t get that from our parents didn’t mean we didn’t need it or want it. Instead, it created a constant longing for affection and validation, not only from our parents but from everyone and everywhere.

My inner child was always searching for love, especially from his mother. Once I realized how ignoring these feelings would affect my life as an adult, a little over fifteen years ago, I started paying attention to the voice of the little boy inside. I started my journey of returning this little boy to his mommy.

I am so extremely proud, happy, and relieved to say that last week the little boy inside finally and truly returned home to his mom. I am 48 years old, and my mother is 75. Although I have been traveling back to Romania and visiting my parents several times in the past, this year was a little different. I decided to take my 8-year-old and my 11-year-old daughters with me, along with my partner. It was a special trip for many reasons.

Since my parents still live there, my daughters met their grandma for the first time and got to experience Romanian culture. It looked like it was going to be an amazing trip, and it truly was. From food to music, tradition, and culture, they got a real taste of what Romania feels like. However, what made the trip that much more special was our last dinner with my mother and father.

There were eight of us at that table: myself, my partner, my two daughters, my brother and his girlfriend, and my parents. Once we got there, I made sure I sat next to my mother. I don’t know why, but I felt the need to be near her. Knowing it was our last night in Romania, I wasn’t sure how I was going to pursue this evening. One thing I knew was that I was going to do everything I could to connect with my mother, beyond the way we were taught or raised to behave.

Therefore, as soon as I sat down, I started hugging her, stroking her back, and playing with her hair. I was constantly kissing her, touching her, and massaging her shoulders, telling her that everything would be okay. There was a constant transfer of energy from me to her. The love fire was ignited. There was nothing planned; I was just following my heart. I think subconsciously I was showing her the affection I always missed and wanted from her. During our dinner, at one point I asked my older daughter to come and give grandma a hug. As soon as she did, my mother started crying. I don’t know why, but she did.

It felt to me like it was a cry for help, a cry for the lost time between us. I started crying too, like a little boy coming home to his mom after being lost for a very long time. It was one of the most powerful and beautiful cries I ever had. It was healing and hopeful.

“I love you, and I always did, I just didn’t know how to express it,” was the first thing I told my mother once my heart was open. In tears, with one of the softest touches, she stroked my face and responded, “I love you too, my son, welcome back home.” It was an exchange between us that no one else heard. It was soft and honest, genuine and sincere.

These were the most wanted and powerful words I needed to hear from her. There were tears of joy and happiness erupting like a fountain, splashing everyone at the table. What a wonderful gift we gave to each other that night. The gift of love.

We all have that gift inside of us. We just need to learn how to give it and how to receive it. It took me over fifteen years of pursuing and learning, but it was worth every second and every minute.

My mother is seventy-five, and I am forty-eight. It is never too late, and you are never too old to experience these feelings. Do what I did at that table: be relentless and never give up. It doesn’t matter who is watching or what you have been told and taught. Follow your heart. Love is in you; love is around you, and love is a gift. Don’t wait until it is too late to tell your loved ones that you love them. Hug them, kiss them, and let them know how special they are to you.

Do it for them and do it for yourself. God bless.