There is a small child that lives inside of each of us who is dedicated to protecting us at all costs. This little child sees its job as helping us to survive. The difficulty is that what is necessary to our survival is subject to a child’s interpretation.

My little girl’s name is Lucy. A long time ago Lucy decided that in order for me to survive and be loved that I had to be perfect. I had to become the perfect “good little girl.” That meant that I always had to excel at everything I did. I always had to be submissive. I always had to be kind. I could never do anything that would cause pain or even discomfort to another. If I crossed those lines, I would never be loved – by the people who were family and friends, by the wider world, or even by God.

Consequently, I became a very good little girl. I excelled in school, was compliant and obedient. I mothered my brother and cousins and took care of stray animals. I wasn’t loud or rowdy, and I never, ever bucked authority. I became the queen of perfectionism.

I don’t for a minute believe that my parents had any notions of trapping me in this perfectionistic, good girl persona. I believe that my little girl, Lucy, in her unformed and childlike innocence, interpreted my life in such a way that she believed that my very survival depended on these traits. In her child’s mind, the only path to love was through being a very good girl.

Even though I am an elder and have worked hard at loving and understanding myself, I only recently realized the power that Lucy has over me. Being a good girl is not a bad thing per se. It is only when I allow the good girl to work at cross purposes with my own well-being that I get into trouble. I have a hard time making decisions that are ultimately for my own good, if those decisions might inconvenience someone else or make someone stressed or unhappy. I must always earn my way by giving more, doing more, taking care of more. I can never be tired or vulnerable.

While Lucy thinks she is taking care of me, she is ultimately harming me deeply. Her fear of loss makes it difficult for me to be authentic, with a full range of emotions, not just the positive ones. Lucy ultimately is a scared little girl hiding in the darkness. I, on the other hand, am an elder, a crone, a wise woman.  I have the power to bring Lucy out of the dark and to love her unconditionally. There are times I need her to protect me, but most of the time I just need her to let me do the driving.

While I won’t stop being a good girl, I must become a fully actualized woman who appropriately chooses when and where to let her wild woman out. I am grateful to Lucy for her protection, but she needs to be in the back seat, not the driver’s seat. As I become the driver, Lucy will have permission to come out and be her liberated, beautiful child-like self along with me. Because while Lucy is protecting me, she is also denying herself permission to be a playful, beloved child.  

Who is the Lucy in your life, and what is she/he requiring of you? Are you ready to relegate her/him to the back seat and take over your own life allowing both yourself and your inner child the freedom to be fully human?

Barbara Garland
October, 2022