Inner Child Healing: The Hypnotherapy Journey That Changed Everything

This past year has guided me through one of the deepest inner child healing experiences of my life, a season of hypnotherapy, grief, and reclaiming the parts of myself I hid long ago. So this past year has been… a lot.

Beautiful in so many ways.
Brutal in so many ways.

If you’ve been feeling like 2025 has been a complete burn-it-down-and-rebuild year, you’re not alone. Between the year of the snake, a numerology year 9, and all the wild astrology transits, so many of us have been asked to let go of old identities, patterns, and people we once thought were permanent.

For me, this year has been:

The first year moving through life without my dad on this planet.
The year my oldest daughter moved out of state and out of my daily orbit.
The year I stopped doing so many things out of obligation and “should.”
The year I went deep into inner child hypnotherapy and finally met some of the younger versions of me who have been running the show from the shadows.

I’m coming out the other side feeling like an entirely different human, softer, braver, more honest, and more me than I’ve ever been.

And I want to invite you into that process.

Because if you’re a sensitive, intuitive, slightly “too much” human who has never really fit into the box… this is for you.

You make good bread, too. 🍞✨

How Hypnotherapy Opened the Door to Inner Child Healing

I’ve been doing deep inner work for years, meditation, journaling, energy work, all the things. But this year, I felt called to something more.

Enter hypnotherapy.

I’ve been working one-on-one with my friend and hypnotherapist, Sari, and let me tell you: inner child healing via hypnotherapy is no joke.

You’re not “out of it” or unaware; you’re deeply relaxed, very present, and still hearing the dogs bark and the random noises in the house. But your subconscious comes forward in a powerful way. You see things. You feel things. You remember memories you already knew about… but through a completely different lens.

What’s been the most surprising is this:

It’s not that I didn’t remember these moments.
It’s that I had no idea how deeply they were still living in my body, my nervous system, and my sense of self.

Hypnotherapy has helped me see how certain experiences became the roots of stories like:

“I’m too much.”
“It’s not safe to be seen.”
“I don’t belong anywhere.”

And instead of just intellectually affirming over them, I’ve been able to meet the little versions of me who actually felt those things first.

Let me share a couple of those journeys with you. This moment became the heart of my inner child healing.

The Five-Year-Old in the Cage

Meeting the Little Girl I Locked Away

In one of my inner child hypnotherapy sessions, I was guided into a meadow.

In this visualization, I arrived as my adult self, hiking boots on, backpack ready, totally prepared for whatever emotional adventure we were about to go on.

At the edge of the meadow, I saw a cage.
Inside the cage was me at five years old, knees hugged to her chest, tiny arms wrapped around her legs, eyes wide and terrified.

I could feel her fear:

Fear of being too much.
Fear of not being believed.
Fear of being called a liar for what she saw and felt.

I walked around to the back of the cage, and there was a lock… with a key in my pocket.

I opened the door.

At first, she was hesitant to come out. She didn’t trust that it was safe. But eventually, she climbed into my arms and clung to me like I was the only safe thing in the world. And in that moment, I knew exactly what she needed to hear:

“You are not too much.”
“Your emotions are not too big.”
“You’re not a liar.”
“I believe you. I trust you. I see you.”

I held her. I stroked her tiny back. I let her know I wasn’t going to send her away, tone her down, or make her be “less.”

Throwing “Too Much” Into the Fire

Then we were guided to a fire.

We walked together, me carrying this little five-year-old version of myself who finally felt seen. We circled the fire, and I could feel this playful, mischievous energy start to return.

We danced around the flames. We were silly. We were loud. We were free.

And then, together, we threw our old stories into the fire:

The belief that we were too emotional.
The belief that our intuition was “too weird.”
The belief that what we saw and felt wasn’t real.
The belief that it wasn’t safe to be imaginative and magical.

We put it all in the fire.

Afterward, we lay down in the grass, holding hands, staring up at the clouds, giggling about what we saw in the sky.

I realized:

She isn’t my problem.
She’s my spark.

I even put a picture of little five-year-old me on my desk so we can do this life together now, instead of me leaving her locked in that cage.

The Lunchroom Story: “She Makes Good Bread”

The Day My 14-Year-Old Self Decided It Wasn’t Safe to Be Seen

In another hypnotherapy session, I was taken back to a different version of me: 14-year-old Andie. This session revealed how much this moment shaped my adulthood and became a core part of my inner child healing journey.

Bad perm.
Secondhand GUESS overalls that I thought were the coolest thing ever.
Just trying so hard to belong.

I had this group of friends who used this weird phrase over and over:

“She makes good bread.”

They’d say it and giggle, and I had no idea what it meant. I’d laugh along, trying to be part of the joke, wanting so badly to be included.

Then one day at lunch, they sat me down and said,
“You can’t sit with us anymore.”

And that’s when they told me:

“Oh, by the way, when we say ‘she makes good bread’… we’re talking about you.”

For months, they had been making fun of me, to my face, using that phrase while I laughed along, thinking I was in on the joke when really, I was the joke.

The betrayal of that moment cracked something deep inside me.

That’s when my subconscious decided:

It’s not safe to be myself.
People will secretly laugh at me.
I have to edit who I am to fit in.
If I shine too bright, I’ll get kicked out.

And honestly? That pattern repeated itself throughout my teens and adulthood:

I’d finally think I’d found a safe group of friends…
And something would happen.
Whispers. Talking behind my back.
Suddenly, I was “too much,” again.

I know so many of you have felt this, too. The deepest heartbreaks aren’t always romantic; sometimes they’re friendships.

Reclaiming “We Make Good Bread”

In the hypnotherapy session, I stood in that lunchroom again and looked at my 14-year-old self.

And instead of collapsing into embarrassment or shame, I laughed.

I walked over to her and said:

“Hell yes, we make good bread.”

We fist bumped. We reclaimed it.
Because being “too much,” too bright, too weird, too magical?

That’s the good bread.

Later in the visualization, I met a circle of my female ancestors, women who also had to hide their gifts, dim their magic, and play small to be safe. They knew my wound intimately, because it was theirs, too.

As I stepped toward them, they were already cheering:

“Hell yeah, we make good bread!”

And in that moment, I realized:

I am the cycle breaker in my lineage.
I’m here to end the pattern of women hiding their light to be palatable, and this wasn’t just my wound; it was generational. And this is where inner child healing meets ancestral healing.

The Cloak, the Bridge, and the Women Who Held Me

In that same journey, something beautiful unfolded.

As I walked forward, these ancestral women placed a regal cloak over my shoulders, handwoven fabrics, rich textures, golden light emanating from every thread. It was heavy in the most beautiful way, like being wrapped in generations of love, magic, and power.

We approached a river I needed to cross.

And instead of leaving me at the edge, these women stepped into the water first. They became the bridge, with their magic, their bodies, their love.

I walked across on their support.

I could feel:

Their heartbreaks.
Their unspoken gifts.
Their stories of being “too much” for their time.

And I could feel their absolute celebration that I was willing to be seen in ways they never could be.

On the other side of the river, there was a sense of initiation:

You did it. You’re here.
You’re breaking this pattern.
You’re allowed to shine now.

That cloak wasn’t just some pretty visualization. It was a reminder:

I don’t walk alone.
None of us do.

Grief, Motherhood, and Letting Go of Performative Holidays

All of this inner healing work hasn’t happened in a vacuum. It’s been layered on top of a very human, very tender year.

This season has held:

The upcoming one-year anniversary of my dad’s passing.
The first Thanksgiving and Christmas without him here.
My oldest daughter moving out of state.

I miss the random texts from my dad about my posts.
His questions about astrology and Human Design.
His quiet effort to understand the work I do.

I miss being able to just call him.

Holidays have felt different, too. Normally, my husband and I throw a Christmas party every year. We send out Christmas cards. We do the things.

This year?

I just didn’t have it in me.

And instead of forcing myself to perform, I let it go.

No party.
No Christmas cards.
No pretending I was “fine” when my heart felt tender and full of grief.

I also watched my daughter pack up her room, move into her own space, and start a new era of her life. I am so proud of her. I’m thrilled she’s close to family. And also? Walking past her empty bedroom is hard.

Both can be true:

I can be wildly proud of her…
And deeply miss her being 30 minutes away.

This is the emotional nuance so many of us are learning to hold in midlife:

Yes, I’m happy for you.
And yes, this also hurts.

Stopping the Performance and Honoring Our Energy

One of the big themes this year has been stopping the performance.

No more:

Saying yes out of obligation.
Doing things because “that’s just what you do.”
Forcing myself to show up when my heart isn’t in it.

Instead, I’m learning to ask:

Do I actually have the energy for this?
Does this feel aligned, or performative?
Am I doing this from love… or from fear of judgment?

I want that for you, too, especially during the holidays.

So here’s your permission slip:

You are allowed to stop doing the things that drain you, even if you’ve done them for 10, 15, 20 years.
You are allowed to choose what actually feels nurturing to your energy.

That’s not selfish. That’s mature. That’s honoring your nervous system, your grief, your bandwidth, and your becoming.

If You Make Good Bread, You Belong Here

If you’re reading this and thinking,

“Oh my gosh, I am that sensitive, intuitive, slightly weird kid who grew up feeling like too much,”

…then hi, fellow weirdo. You’re my people.

You might:

Have felt like the “odd one out” your whole life.
Have spiritual or intuitive gifts you were taught to shut down.
Still carry friendship wounds that made you decide it wasn’t safe to be fully you.
Be the cycle breaker in your family, doing the deep emotional work that no one else had language for.

You are not broken.
You are not too much.
You make really, really good bread.

At my table, you always have a seat.

An Invitation for My Fellow Bright Lights

If this story resonated with you, here are a few gentle invitations:

Share this with a friend who has also felt like too much, especially if they’ve been hurt by friendships or family members not understanding them.
Journal on your own “cage” moments:
- When did you first decide you were too much?
- When did you learn it wasn’t safe to be seen?
- What would your five-year-old or fourteen-year-old self say to you today?
Let yourself stop performing. Choose one thing this season you’ve been doing out of obligation and give yourself permission to put it down.

And if you’re ready to go deeper, to explore your magic, your sensitivity, your Human Design and astrology, and your inner child wounds with someone who gets what it’s like to not fit the mold. I’m here.

I’m here to hold space for your becoming.
For your weird.
For your magic.
For your good bread.

You belong here. Always. 💛

I’m emerging from this year softer, stronger, and deeply committed to ongoing inner child healing and expansion