The little girl who grew up on Verdi Drive in Buena Park, California loved rollerskating around her neighborhood, singing Christian songs as loud as she could, hoping it would qualify as evangelism.
She was a good daughter.
Earnestly striving to please.
She hoped that if she just got it all right,
the chaos would calm.
The love would last.
Her needs would be met.
And maybe, she would finally feel safe.
— ✧ —
Being raised in a Christian home with two very loving, supportive parents did not insulate me from some very dysfunctional family dynamics and distorted beliefs about a benevolent Higher Power.
My mother’s emotional volatility and my father’s quiet codependence created an environment shaped by unpredictability.
I never knew which version of my mom I would get –
withdrawn or explosive, silent or seething.
So I became hypervigilant.
Scanning for cues. Reading the emotional weather.
Trying to stay one step ahead of the storm.
I tried so hard to be the perfect little girl. For my parents and for God.
Because he was always observing, always evaluating.
Not just my actions, but my thoughts and feelings as well.
The message I internalized was:
Be good. Be holy. Get it right.
Or lose connection.
With your parents. With God. With love itself.
It was an unbearable pressure for a child to carry.
If little Kimberly had been given a voice, she would have said:
“I am so scared. All the time. I don’t even know how scared I am.
I am so sad. I’m alone so much, and I’m alone with all these big feelings.
I am so angry. I don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
Understandably, little Kimberly did not have the awareness or capacity to carry the weight of all the Sadness, Anger, and Fear she was feeling. So, she buried it.
Formed from the first letters of what she so wisely had to repress,
I named my own inner child Safi.
Learning how to show up for her with presence and patience
has become my deepest emotional reparenting work.
Safi is the part of me that had to disappear in order to survive.
To shut down the ache so I could function.
She is the one who still flinches when things feel uncertain,
who still startles at disapproval,
who still carries guilt like gospel.
Even after years of inner child healing, spiritual awakening, and perspective shifts,
these old messages continue to echo from parts of me that still feel young and afraid:
“It’s too much.”
“I can’t handle this.”
“I have to get it right or else…”
I’ve come to understand this voice isn’t the truth.
It’s a protector.
And I am no longer that child who needs protecting.
The fear of feeling overwhelming pain is the emotional repression mechanism at work.
When this survival program gets activated, I’m learning not to push her away.
Instead, I pull her closer and offer her the one thing she never had:
A safe, consistent presence.
I get to be the one who stays and whispers,
“You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”
“It’s safe to feel this, because I’m here now. Always.”
This is not just self-soothing.
This is sacred remembrance:
I am the presence vast enough to hold what once felt unbearable.
Sometimes, that holding happens with words.
Sometimes, with breath.
Sometimes, with tapping.
And sometimes…with a weighted sloth plushie named Sam.
I never had one as a child.
But this small, heavy companion lives on my bed now reminding me:
It’s safe to sloooooow waaaaaaay dooooown.
There’s no need to push. Or rush. Or force.
He is the symbol of what I needed then, and offer myself now.
Unconditional compassion. Infinite patience. Tireless encouragement.
These are the qualities that form the foundation of this inner sanctuary
where Safi can rest without needing to be fixed.
As it turned out, Safi had a role in naming this realm.
I remember asking myself:
If my inner child could name the world where she finally feels safe to unfold…
what would she call it?
Unfurlia was her answer.
Here, no part is exiled.
Safi can feel what she feels, in her own timing, at her own pace.
And I am no longer a project to perfect,
but a soul to tend.
May this space be a gentle reminder for you as well:
You are not the fear.
You are the one who can welcome it home.
And you were never meant to earn love.
You are the love your unhealed, unmet parts have always longed for.
— ✧ —
If you’re feeling curious,
this page shares more about tapping
and this tapping spell supports
embodying the loving presence you’ve been longing for.