A childhood game that seems to have stood the test of time, turning the heads of even those glued to tablets (iPads, not pills, in case that wasn’t clear) is good old Hide and Seek.
Kids love to play at hiding. Running off excitedly to find some (usually inextricably obvious) location, given away if not by their poorly disguised outline then certainly by the fits of giggles that accompany their newfound invisibility.
I remember being a child of that game myself. The joy is not in the hiding. Anyone able to hide too well will remember the dissatisfaction of waiting a little too long to be found.
No. The joy is listening to the person trying to find you. That anticipated cry of “Ready or not, here I come…”. The suspense! The exhilaration! The thrill of the best kind of danger - of being on the run and yet knowing your fate’s already sealed. It’s merely a matter of time…
It’s an innocent joy rooted in security; in the confidence of knowing that someone will, in fact, come to find you. It reinforces your importance in the world - that a person would exhaust themselves looking high and low because you, as far as the game is concerned, are special and must be found.
I’m reminded of another memory from when I was little. My Dad had taken me and my brother out for the day so Mum could write in peace. We’d had our faces painted and on returning, my Dad announced, “Sorry darling, I lost the children but I brought home these two new ones instead!”. We’d rehearsed it in the car. However, on seeing my mother’s mock acceptance of these two new faces, I immediately flung my arms around her, wailing as I gripped her knees and sobbed, “No Mummy, it’s me, it’s meeee!!!”. I was beside myself that I’d been replaced so easily. I always was a tad dramatic.
You see, children may love to hide, but only if they know they will be found.
I’ve been reading a lot of autobiographies lately and it’s interesting how often people suggest they were “weird” or “uncool” as a kid.
Whether it’s Will Smith in beloved cowboy boots worn even on the basketball court, Roxane Gay ‘s insistence on overalls, the pockets stuffed with items she wanted to keep close, or Yrsa Daley-Ward’s unicorn in the garden, also visible to her younger brother, Roo (so named because he preferred to bounce rather than walk).
My heart beats hard when I read about the unadulterated quirks of children. Those little characters so rich, so real, so alive with bombastic individuality. They’re not (always) trying to be funny or cute, they’re just being themselves.
It can feel so far removed from who we are as adults; from the vulnerable naïvety to the sheer audacity of that mini-me. The innocent non-conformer who’s happy to stand out as one of a kind.
It feels sad to me that we ever have to lose that.
Of course, sometimes innocence is not lost, but taken. Some children experience things a child never should, suddenly catapulting them into adulthood without leaving so much as a breadcrumb trail. Though for many others, childhood quirkiness is shed like a snakeskin at the high school gates, when adolescence reinforces the need for inclusion. We reinvent ourselves and banish the parts we deem ‘not cool’. We send our younger self off to hide …then walk away from the game.
Years later we might look back on ourselves with surprise - who was that kid?
It’s interesting that we define our character by who we deem ourselves to be as adults. Surely our childhood self is our most authentic. All instinct and imagination. Mowgli in the wild, running with wolves before being taken to the Man Village (which I believe is now a place in Soho).
We adapt. Of course we do. Being ourselves can leave an open goal to rejection, hurt, jealousy, and humiliation. And we are wired for connection - we have a human need to fit in.
If others don’t accept us, it becomes much harder to accept ourselves. Splitting can occur as we decide what parts of us are ‘good’ and ‘bad’, and seek to eradicate the latter in order to become more acceptable. Or we may instead seek to disappear into adventure, keeping parts of ourselves infantilised like Peter Pan, in order to avoid the pain of complex emotions.
A lot of adult psychotherapy work focuses on reconnecting clients with their lost inner child. In an early session of my own work, I had to bring in a picture of little me. It was excruciating. I still have such mixed feelings about that child; embarrassed that she was so open, ashamed that she was such a show-off, envious that she was so free, and devastated that she became so broken.
I’d been furious that she’d embarrassed me at school and disappointed my parents so I let her hide then locked her away like Harry Potter under the stairs. Her magic trapped in darkness.
My work has been learning to let her out again. To see her, to love her, to make her feel safe and wanted. It all takes time, of course …I couldn’t even locate the key to start with!
Journeying back to who we were as a child can give us answers to the things that may be keeping us stuck in the present. We can be reminded of where it all began - curiosity, excitement, possibility and adventure! It never leaves you, you just need to look in the right places.
We think that our childhood individuality makes us ‘weird’, but what’s weird is that we’d want to lose what makes us truly unique. That we’d prefer to be generic. To play it safe.
When we banish our childhood selves, it’s actually us who’s hiding. Rejecting the parts of ourselves we fear might not be accepted. Real self-acceptance requires the integration of all the parts of us - young, old, good, not-so-good - the full spectrum of all we’ve experienced.
Feeling lost or disconnected to the child we were may suggest it’s time to go back to that beloved childhood game. If our younger self has been hiding, then it’s high time we went to go seek.
The Reps
Let’s break it down..
We often try and shed our true nature out of fear we won’t fully be accepted. Who you were as a child is most likely the most authentic version of you.
To deny your childhood ‘weirdness’ is to deny your natural creativity, flare, and joy of expression.
Find compassion for that mini version of you and try to find a way to connect back with that original character.
Most likely what might be referred to as a ‘weird kid’, is actually a very cool kid indeed!
Adding More Weight
Load up on this theme..
Essential Secrets of Psychotherapy: The Inner Child
Elliot Page Finally Feels Able to Just Exist
How the Ways We Publicly Define Ourselves Has Changed
McDonalds Christmas Ad About Iggy the Imaginary Friend (Has Adults Crying!)
Option to Go Deeper
Challenge yourself, even if it hurts a little..
What were your favourite things, times, adventures as a child?
Part of reconnecting with the child we were is to remember what they loved doing, what made them most excited, what brought them the most joy. It’s important to acknowledge those parts of you that may have been hidden or lost. Perhaps consider the ways in which you might have changed certain character traits. Why was that change important?
Snacks for Later
Things I’ve consumed this week..
Hugely recommend reading Yrsa Daley-Ward’s The Terrible
As a book fan, it’s rare I recommend audio versions over the real deal but definitely get Will Smith’s autobiography on Audible - let’s just say it’s an experience!
Iran Was Our Hogwarts - I re-read this article again as it’s so good!