Sometimes I forget that the person I am now was once a little kid trying to figure things out. It is strange to think about, especially as an adult, because so much of our attention is focused on who we are now and who we are trying to become. We have responsibilities, relationships, work, routines, and all of the little decisions that come with being an adult. Childhood can start to feel like a distant chapter, like something that happened a long time ago to a version of us who feels almost like a different person. But every once in a while, I am reminded that the child I was did not disappear. In many ways, that child grew up with me.

I think about this in small moments. Maybe I am more affected by something than I expected to be, or I notice myself wanting to make sure everyone around me is okay before checking in with myself. Sometimes I recognize a familiar tendency to overthink, to be careful about what I say, or to want to understand what someone else is feeling before I think about what I am feeling. These things can seem so adult when we experience them now, but when I take a step back, I can sometimes see pieces of where they began.

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A Mind Made of Parts

This is one of the reasons I find Internal Family Systems, or IFS, such an interesting way of understanding ourselves. IFS describes the mind as having different "parts," each with its own feelings, perspectives, and ways of responding. Rather than seeing these parts as something that needs to be fixed or eliminated, IFS approaches them with curiosity and compassion. The idea is that even the parts of us that create difficulties often developed with some kind of protective intention.

When I think about childhood through this lens, I can imagine how some of the ways we learned to navigate the world might continue showing up in adulthood. The part of us that learned to keep the peace might still become uncomfortable when someone is upset. The part that learned to be independent might still hesitate before asking for help. The part that became very aware of other people's moods might still notice every small change in someone's tone. These responses can sometimes feel automatic, almost as though they belong to a younger version of us who is still somewhere inside.

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The Child Who Learned to Adapt

I was a child immigrant, and I think that experience shaped some of the ways I learned to move through the world. There is something particular about being a child and having to adjust to a world that feels so unfamiliar. You are learning how to belong while also figuring out what parts of yourself, your family, and where you came from you want to carry with you. You notice differences. You learn how people communicate, what is expected of you, and how to adapt. Sometimes you move between different languages, cultures, traditions, or expectations without having the words to explain what that feels like. As a child, you are not necessarily analyzing any of this. You are just learning how to exist in the world.

Looking back as an adult gives me a perspective I did not have then. I can see things about my childhood with a little more context and understanding. I can recognize how certain experiences shaped the way I relate to people, how I respond to change, and how I understand myself. I can also appreciate things that I probably did not have the ability to appreciate as a child.

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The Way We Speak to Ourselves

At the same time, I think there is a tendency to look back at ourselves with the knowledge we have now and judge the person we used to be for not knowing what we know today.

We might think about moments from childhood or adolescence and wonder why we were so shy, why we cared so much about what other people thought, why we did not speak up, or why we allowed certain things to bother us. We can look back and see choices that we would make differently now and wonder why we did not handle them another way. But we were still learning. We were trying to understand relationships, emotions, friendship, family, identity, and the world around us with the tools we had at the time. We did not have the perspective of an adult because we were not adults.

I sometimes think about how differently we tend to speak to children than we speak to ourselves. If we saw a child struggling to make friends, we probably would not criticize them for being nervous. If they made a mistake, we would understand that they were learning. If they were sensitive or overwhelmed, we might try to understand what they needed rather than telling them that they should simply get over it. Yet as adults, we can look back at our younger selves and be surprisingly unforgiving.

IFS offers another way of approaching those moments. Instead of asking, "Why am I still like this?" we might become curious about the part of us that is reacting. What does it seem to be worried about? What is it trying to protect? What might it have learned a long time ago? The goal is not necessarily to get rid of that part. In the IFS model, parts are understood as having their own roles and protective intentions, and the work involves developing a more compassionate relationship with them.

I like this distinction because it leaves room for growth without requiring us to reject ourselves.

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Room for Both

Of course, what helped us at one point in our lives does not always need to follow us forever. As adults, we have the opportunity to notice what still feels useful and what we might want to do differently. We can learn to communicate more directly, set boundaries, ask for reassurance, tolerate discomfort, or give ourselves permission to take up a little more space. But there is a difference between wanting to grow and believing that we need to reject the parts of ourselves that helped us get here.

This feels especially meaningful to me when I think about growing up as an immigrant. There can be so many pieces of yourself that you carry forward without even realizing it. A language, a tradition, a certain way of relating to family, foods that remind you of home, memories of places you no longer live, or ways of thinking that were shaped by the environment you grew up in. As we grow older, some of those things change. Some become more important. Some become less present. Sometimes we realize that we have become a combination of many different places and experiences.

I have come to appreciate that growing does not necessarily mean leaving those earlier parts of ourselves behind.

In fact, I think there can be something comforting about realizing that we do not have to choose between who we were and who we are becoming. We can make room for both. We can recognize that a younger part of us may still carry certain fears or hopes while also recognizing that we, as adults, have more choices than we once did.

IFS uses the idea of a core Self alongside our different parts. This Self is described as having qualities such as curiosity, calm, compassion, clarity, and connectedness. From this perspective, the goal is not for one part to take over or for us to become a completely different person. It is about relating to our inner experiences from a place that is more grounded and compassionate.

I think there is something beautiful about that idea. Sometimes we are so used to fighting with ourselves that we forget we can also listen.

Maybe growing up is not about becoming completely separate from who we used to be. Maybe it is about developing a different relationship with the people we have been. We can recognize that a younger version of ourselves made choices we would not make now while still having compassion for why those choices made sense at the time. We can acknowledge that certain experiences affected us without allowing them to define everything about who we are. We can also appreciate the parts of ourselves that have been there all along.

Every once in a while, I think it can be nice to remember yourself as a child without trying to analyze the memory. Think about what you loved, what made you laugh, what made you worry, what you were curious about, what made you feel safe, or what you looked forward to. Think about the little things that mattered so much then.

There is something tender about allowing yourself to remember that person simply as a person who was learning and growing, rather than as a younger version of yourself you need to critique or deeply analyze.

And sometimes those younger parts still show up. They might appear when we feel rejected, when someone is disappointed in us, when we are entering an unfamiliar situation, or even when something unexpectedly reminds us of home. We do not always have to understand exactly why a particular reaction is there. We can simply notice it.

Maybe we can pause and think, "A part of me is feeling scared right now," or "A part of me really wants everyone to be okay." That small shift can create a little distance between who we are and what we are feeling in the moment. It gives us room to listen instead of immediately judging ourselves.

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A Little More Grace

The older I get, the more I think that perhaps we owe our younger selves a little more grace. They were figuring things out without knowing how everything would turn out. They were learning how to belong, how to connect, how to protect themselves, and how to understand the world around them. They could not have known everything we know now.

They were simply doing what people do at that age: becoming.

And maybe we are still doing that.

There are parts of us that have changed, parts that have softened, parts that have grown stronger, and parts that still carry something from much earlier in our lives. We do not have to understand every piece of ourselves perfectly. We do not have to turn every childhood memory into an explanation.

Sometimes it can be enough to notice what shows up, get a little curious, and meet ourselves with the same patience we might offer a child who is still learning.

I think growing up is less about outgrowing ourselves and more about getting to know ourselves differently. With a little more context. A little more patience. A little less judgment, and a little more tenderness for the parts of us that have been here all along.

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Source:

• Internal Family Systems Institute. (n.d.). The Internal Family Systems model outline.