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I have called myself an adult-child for over 10 years now, but it's not until recently that its literal meaning rung true for me. I am an adult and a child. Sometimes I feel like a child in an adult's body and in the past I acted like an adult when just a child. My personality seems to be a bit skewed by the feelings of adulthood as a child and feelings of childhood as an adult. It seems almost ironic that healing must come from rediscovering a lost childhood. Is it "never too late to have a happy childhood?" Is it true that we need to complete childhood's developmental stages even as grown adults?

My family used to call me "vieja" (the old lady) and some would tell me I had "an old heart/soul." I did not know what they meant but I knew they were right. I somehow had answers and said wise things. I remember often saying things in a quiet, but respectful voice and every adult in the room then looking at me-looking at each other and laughing, "That's right." My mother thought I was too smart for my own good, and so I thought I had to be stupid to please her. I played stupid for her so often that I think I began to believe I was stupid.

Now, when a situation is critical and calls for all my resources to be pooled in order to respond, I regress to the adult-like child I was. I was great during a crisis. I held up, sometimes better than the adults around me could. I would think quickly, find a solution and take the actions (or help the adults to take actions, without offending them) that were needed to bring the situation back to equilibrium. Everyone counted on little old me to have an answer. It was an awesome responsibility for a young child, but I loved it. On some level, it was great to be able to do what adults could not do. It made me feel strong and apart from them.

I didn't realize how much this role took away from me. I did not know how damaging this could be to my development. Oh sure, it has made me into a strong, goal oriented and resourceful woman (on the outside), but on the inside I feel hollow, empty, and depleted. I was so busy taking care of everyone else that there wasn't time for my needs. No one was taking care of me. The only time I got to rest was when everyone else was fine, the crisis was over, or when my body was so depleted, that I got sick and had to rest. Now, at thirty-something, I am learning how to take care of my childhood needs. I need to learn how to function and work without depleting my resources. I am learning how to have transitional objects. I have a "blanky" and a favorite "teddy" that come with me to any "sleepover." As a child, sleepovers were never possible. In my late twenties, I had a birthday slumber party, my first ever, with other women who never had the opportunity for sleepovers in childhood. I am learning to giggle and laugh. I am also learning to cry and grieve for the abuses I suffered.

Today, I am learning to rely on an adult the way a child relies on a parent in a therapeutic setting. Of all of the successes I have achieved in my life, this is the hardest thing I have ever attempted. I am learning to trust a therapist the way I should have trusted my mother. I am learning to tell the secrets that no longer need to be held in my head out of fear.

To everyone out there, I hope you find someone you can trust this much. They are hard to find, believe me, but the right match is out there. Trust your instincts. If you are not happy, move on. Shop around. It took me six months of weekly intakes to find my current therapist. As she said, "the love affair" has begun. Like a mother adores her child when she sees her, I imagine she thinks of me when I see her smile as I enter her office each week. This healthy transference is a way to rebuild what was arrested in childhood. She even brought a new stuffed "horsey" into her office for me to play with. That's why I chose her. What do you want in a new mommy? Oops, I meant therapist. Good luck and happy hunting. It is a long and grueling process, but it can be well-worth the effort.