She's The One

She’s the one

I said, "This all feels so complicated.", She responded, "Because you can only see a glimpse."

I said, "But I’m scared", she said of what? I said, "Being hurt again.", She responded, "I can’t promise you that you won’t hurt again, but what I can promise you is that when you hurt, I will be here."

I said, "What if it’s all over?" She responded, "Then we will start again."

I said, "Starting over is so hard." She says, "It is, but you can count on me to lead the way".

I said, "I’m tired and I don’t think I have it in me to fight." She responded, "It’s ok, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you can lean on me, I will always fight for you."

I said, "How can I trust you?" She said, "Because I AM YOU, and I know everywhere you’ve been and everything you've been through."

That was the moment I knew she was the one.

"She's the one," isn't a conversation with a romantic partner or a best friend. This isn't about some perfect person I met; it’s the raw, vulnerable dialogue between my wounded Inner Child ("I") and my Higher Self or Adult Self ("She"), the self who knows how to care for me, show up for me, and be trustworthy. It represents the ultimate healing realization that I can be my own safe refuge.

I remember saying, "God, this all feels so complicated," and my Adult Self, calm and steady, responded, "That's just because you can only see a glimpse." My overwhelmed Inner Child was panicked by the immediate mess, but the part of me that holds the wisdom reminded me to trust the larger, unfolding process.

The Inner Child pushed back, "But I'm scared, scared of being hurt again." And my Adult Self didn't offer a naive lie. Instead, she gave me the only promise that ever truly mattered: "I can't promise you that you won't hurt again, but I can promise you that when you hurt, I will be here." That shifts everything. It moves the focus from frantically avoiding pain to knowing that my adult capacity for self-care and resilience will always be present to hold the younger, hurting part of me.

When despair hit, the Child Self whispered, "What if it's all over?" The Adult Self's response was simple, resilient: "Then we will start again." But the exhaustion of past disappointments choked the Child: "Starting over is so hard." The Adult Self acknowledged the truth, "It is, but you can count on me to lead the way." This meant the adult, capable part of me would guide the process, alleviating the crushing burden from the weary, younger self.

But the hardest confession was next: "I'm tired, and I don't think I have it in me to fight anymore." The Adult Self's response was the most merciful: "It's okay. You don't have to be strong all the time. You can lean on me; I will always fight for you." This was permission for the Inner Child to finally rest. It was the Adult Self saying, "I will advocate for your needs and protect your peace when you are too exhausted to do it yourself."

Finally, the Child Self asked the big, skeptical question, "How can I trust you?" The Adult Self's answer was the moment the earth shifted under my feet. She said, "Because I AM YOU, and I know everywhere you’ve been and everything you’ve been through." No one else can say that. The capable, trustworthy Adult Self is the only entity that has witnessed every single secret struggle and triumph of the Inner Child. That shared history creates the unbreakable trust I’d been seeking externally my entire life.

That was the moment I finally, completely knew. She was the one. I finally understood that the ability to love, protect, and accept myself unconditionally was already inside me. I was home. I was safe.

Which part of this dialogue, the scared Inner Child or the reassuring Adult Self, do you hear most often in your head?