Bring back the child in you....

Time to Let Our Inner Child Be Free

Somewhere along the way, the child in me was told to sit down. To quiet down. To stop dreaming so wildly. To stop laughing so loud. To stop coloring outside the lines.

I don’t remember the exact day it happened. Maybe you don’t either. But we all know it did. One day you were climbing trees and making castles out of nothing, and the next you were sitting in classrooms, learning to stand in straight lines, to raise your hand only when called, to keep your voice in check.

It didn’t feel like a death at the time. Just a small silencing. A trade. Imagination for discipline. Wonder for order. Play for productivity.

But now, looking back, I wonder: why did we lock that child away? And more importantly, isn’t it time we set them free?

The Child Still Lives Inside

That child hasn’t died. No matter how many rules or routines we buried it under, it still lives inside us.

I catch glimpses of mine sometimes. When music makes me want to dance in the kitchen. When rain tempts me to run outside barefoot. When I laugh so hard I snort and forget to care who’s watching.

That’s the child — knocking on the walls of the cage, reminding me it’s still there, still breathing, still waiting to be let out.

And maybe you feel it too. In those moments when joy slips through seriousness. In those sudden sparks of wonder you can’t explain. That’s your inner child whispering, “Remember me? I’m still here.”

The Chains We Call Adulthood

But we’ve been trained to keep the child inside locked up. We wear seriousness like it’s proof of worth. We talk about bills, deadlines, responsibilities as if joy has to be earned, rationed, measured.

We shame silliness. We roll our eyes at wonder. We treat play like it’s weakness, as if life should only be about efficiency, achievement, and being respectable.

But respectability can be a prison. It keeps us rigid, grey, predictable. And the child inside suffocates under that weight.

The Cost of Burying the Child

There’s a price to keeping that child locked away. You feel it in the dullness of routines that all look the same. You feel it in the burnout that no vacation can fix. You feel it in the way joy seems harder to find the older you get.

The truth is, life without the child is functional, but it’s not alive. You can pay your bills, meet your deadlines, keep your house neat — and still feel like you’re just going through the motions.

The child inside isn’t asking you to abandon responsibility. It’s asking you to remember what makes life more than survival.

The Little Escapes

Sometimes the child breaks free without asking permission. In the middle of a workday when you doodle on the corner of a page. When you belt out lyrics in the car even though you’re off-key. When you eat ice cream for dinner just because it feels good.

These are not accidents. They are rebellions. The child refuses to die. And each time it slips through, you remember that freedom still exists inside you.

What Happens When You Let It Out

Imagine if you stopped shutting the child back in.

You’d start laughing louder. You’d start asking questions with wonder instead of cynicism. You’d look at the sky the way you used to, not just to check the weather but to marvel at its colors.

Work would still exist. Responsibilities would still demand your attention. But in between, your days would breathe again. Life would have texture, not just tasks.

It’s Not Immaturity — It’s Aliveness

We’ve been taught to confuse childlike with childish. But they’re not the same.

Childish is selfish, careless, unwilling to grow. Childlike is open, curious, unashamed to feel joy. One is avoidance. The other is presence.

Releasing your inner child doesn’t make you less of an adult. It makes you a fuller human. A human who pays bills and laughs at silly jokes. A human who works hard and still remembers how to play.

I Tried It

I started letting mine out in small ways. I bought crayons and filled a page with color. I jumped into a puddle instead of walking around it. I swung on a swing at the park after years of pretending I was “too old.”

And it shocked me. How much I smiled. How much lighter I felt. How much space opened in my chest.

It wasn’t about the swing or the crayons. It was about permission. Permission to stop pretending adulthood meant killing off wonder.

The World Needs It Too

When you let your inner child out, something else happens — people around you soften. They laugh with you. They remember their own child. It’s contagious.

Because deep down, everyone is carrying a caged child. Everyone is waiting for permission to open the door.

And maybe your play, your laughter, your unashamed joy is the spark they need to remember theirs.

The Final Dare

So here’s the truth I’ve landed on: keeping the child inside locked away isn’t maturity. It’s fear. Fear of being laughed at. Fear of being different. Fear of being alive in a world that rewards seriousness.

But life is too short to be serious all the time. Too short to pretend the child is gone when it’s still alive inside us, pounding on the walls, begging to run free.

So I’ll ask you what I’ve asked myself: When was the last time you let your inner child out to play?

And if your answer is “I can’t remember” — maybe it’s time.

Go ahead. Laugh too loudly. Dance badly. Scribble nonsense. Jump in the puddle. Set the child free. Because when you do, you don’t just bring the child back to life. You bring yourself back to life too.