Bad choice of men – Inner Child work
My client keeps making bad choice of men. One after another.She shared that she turns very submissive around men, although she is a strong, smart woman that makes a good living.For instance, her current boyfriend makes her drive all the way to his place to meet him, although she has a nice place of her own.They travel together and have fun but his attitude towards her is dismissive. She feels they don’t talk about the important stuff. Whenever she brings up things that bother her in the relationship, he blames her of being a victim and a complainer. I forgot to mention, although she is interested in committed relationship, the men she chooses seem serious in the beginning, but later on refuse to take things to the next level. Her friends keep wondering: “why are you attracting such men, when you can do so much better? Why are you staying with them, even though they don’t treat you right?” We decided to look into her early childhood experiences. Under a meditative state a scene came up:She is in by the kitchen counter, standing on a chair, since she is only 4 years old. She is “Daddy’s little helper” and is having a blast. They are making soup with lots of colorful veggies while laughing and creating together. She feels very safe and loved by Daddy. The soup is ready and she can’t wait to eat it, as she is starving.“It is too hot, let me blow it cold for you” daddy says. She loves her Daddy.A few minutes later she devours the whole bowl, and asks for more. Daddy says she can’t have seconds because he doesn’t like to waste food.“But I’m still hungry” she begs. After some back and forth he gives her a second bowl of soup. Half the way through it, she tells her Daddy. “I’m full. I can’t eat any more.”“I told you you!” he yells at her. “You never listen to me! you are a bad girl!” She is shocked at the outburst and freezes. Suddenly, her father pushes her head down, dipping her face in the bowl of soup. “How does the 4 years old feel?” I asked my client on the recliner. “Anger, shame, fear and guilt” she replied right away.“What did you learn from this scene about men?” I inquired. “I learned to be submissive, to fear men’s sudden anger and listen carefully and do whatever they ask of me” She said quietly. “Bingo!” I thought to myself. This is the root cause for her “irrational” behavior.We did some healing and then she went home. 2 days later I texted her to see how she was doing, like I always check on my clients.“I gave the boyfriend an ultimatum: Openly talk about the relationship and my needs in it or I leave. I didn’t hear from him since. Thinking of it now, I don’t understand what was I even doing with him.”
A Mother’s Rage – Inner Child
Breaking the Cycle: How Inner Child Work Helped a Mother Heal Her RageThe StruggleMora came to me heartbroken and exhausted. A loving mother of two, she found herself losing her temper—again and again—with her 7-year-old son. She knew her outbursts were scarring him. She could see the fear in his eyes. And yet, in the heat of the moment, she couldn’t stop herself. Her rage felt uncontrollable—especially when her son was being cruel or unfair to his younger sister.The TriggerIt happened just before dinner. She was in her bedroom, getting dressed to meet a friend. Her kids were in the bathroom, brushing their teeth.Her son, older by a year and a half, was pushing his little sister off the stool so she couldn’t reach the sink. The girl cried and complained. From the bedroom, the mother asked her son to share.He didn’t.The RPMs of her anger started climbing—fast. She stormed into the bathroom like a wounded animal and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her son burst into tears, horrified.She felt ashamed. Again.The Age RegressionUnder hypnosis, we gently guided her into a childhood memory.She was in the living room playing joyfully and loudly with her siblings. Her father came home drunk. He started yelling at her mother, accusing her for not disciplining the kids. The argument escalated. He beat her mother—badly.Then he turned to the children and screamed at them to be quiet.She remembered the terror. The helplessness. The rage. Her father never hit her—but his violence left a deep imprint.The PatternShe grew up resenting her mother’s passivity. So she subconsciously chose to embody the opposite: her father’s dominance.She married a gentle, emotionally sensitive man. She became the breadwinner. The disciplinarian. The protector.But she also inherited her father’s temper.This is generational transference—when we unconsciously repeat the very behaviors that wounded us, even as we try to do better.The RealizationIn session, she saw the cost of living from her wounded masculine side.She wasn’t just hurting her son, she was also hurting herself. As a mother. As a wife. As a woman.We worked to heal and integrate her inner girl, the vulnerable part of her that had been frozen in fear and sadness for decades.The ShiftA week later, I checked in.“How are you feeling?” I asked.I could feel her smile over the phone. “Last night, the kids were brushing their teeth. I heard them bickering from my bedroom. I felt a little annoyed… but I let them figure it out. I stayed calm. I felt peaceful.”That’s the power of inner child work. Not just remembering—but releasing. Not just insight—but integration.
Perfectionism & Parts Therapy: How Dana Learned to Let Go
“Every Friday night I cook for family and friends. Everyone praises me for being a superb cook—but honestly? Preparing these dinners drains me.” Dana confessed as she settled into the recliner.“I race all day just to be ready five minutes before the guests arrive. I’ve been cooking for two days straight, and by the end of the evening, I still force myself to do the dishes and clean the kitchen. My friends can leave the mess until morning. They ‘wing it.’ But not me. I make four meat dishes, twenty salads, five desserts, fresh-baked buns, and cookies. Everything from scratch.”“Wow,” I thought. “I’m coming for dinner!”Jokes aside, I knew Dana was haunted by a part of her that demanded nothing less than perfection.We all have parts—sub-personalities we created to survive at some point in our lives. A kid bullied at school may become the funny one to be liked. A sensitive boy mocked for crying may toughen up and act cruel to hide vulnerability. A girl who’s been violated may adopt a seductive persona to reclaim power. A child starved of love may grow into a “lone wolf,” pretending not to need anyone. Dana’s “perfectionist part” was simply another survival strategy.I asked her to close her eyes, breathe deeply, and fully relax. I explained she had two opposing parts, and we’d invite each one to speak, one at a time.First, we called upon the part that demanded perfection.“What should we call it?” I asked.Without hesitation, she answered with authority: “The Commander.”The Commander had been born when Dana was 18. Its mission? Make her a “good” wife, a great mom, an exceptional host—someone everyone would admire. It believed perfection kept her loved, and therefore safe.Next, we invited the other part—the one urging her to rest, slow down, and drop the impossible standards. Dana’s voice softened as she said, “This is Sam.” Sam wanted her to love herself, put her needs first, and protect her health. In fact, when Dana overextended herself, Sam would stir up stomach trouble to force her to stop.We began a gentle negotiation. After an hour of dialogue, we found the common ground: both parts wanted what was best for Dana—they just had different strategies.The Commander agreed to transform into “The Manager”—a supportive planner rather than a drill sergeant. Sam would set the pace and priorities, while The Manager ensured things still got done without impossible pressure.Two weeks later, Dana texted me a photo of meatballs.“You see how imperfect these are?” she wrote. (To me, they looked pretty identical!) “The old me would have spent twenty minutes making them perfect. Today, I spent five minutes. Their uneven shapes don’t bother me. I even took a lunch break. I finished cooking an hour before guests arrived, enjoyed the evening, and still had the energy to do the dishes afterward!”Sometimes healing doesn’t look like fireworks—it looks like uneven meatballs and a peaceful heart.
Chocolate Obsession
“I’m 4 years old, a happy middle daughter. My parents get along and we are wealthy. I love my father very much but he travels a lot for work. I miss him terribly.” She became emotional. “He is coming home after his trip. I’m in the living room, anxiously waiting for him, with my older brother. My Dad opens the door. We jump on him, and he hugs and kisses us. He brings in two heavy suitcases. My sister and I know the drill. We open the gray one in the middle of the room. It’s packed with goods: shoes, toys, clothes. But what I like the most – the exotic chocolates: Swiss, Belgium, German- individually wrapped in a golden paper. My brother and I split the treasure evenly. My Dad put so much love and intention into choosing these for us. Each time he brings new kinds and brands of chocolate!” She was beaming. “Daddy is back!. I’m so glad. I love him so much! I’m not close to my mom. She is strict. Daddy spoils me and takes me on adventures.” She explained. “What does chocolate mean to you today?” I inquired. “My daddy’s love, being the favorite, feeling safe and appreciated.” When Debra woke up, she said: “you know, my chocolate drawer is the exact dimensions of the suitcase! Wide and deep and comforting!” I smiled. A week later she texted. “The next day, habitually, I opened the drawer in the morning, looked at my stash. A curated international collection of chocolates. But I felt nothing. Am I sick? No desire for chocolate. I had to force myself to eat one, to make sure I was OK.” She shared in astonishment. “Now, I’m just like a regular person, not an addict” she clarified. “I can eat it. I enjoy chocolate, but I’m not obsessing over it anymore.”