The Little Girl on the Stage

Yesterday I watched a group of little ones perform a Christmas dance.
All dressed in soft pink, their faces full of focus and excitement while moving across stage. Tiny steps, big hearts, fluffy pink skirts. 
And then — one of them stopped moving and froze.
Her face crumpled and she started crying. Maybe she mixed the steps or forgot them, maybe the lights of the stage were too big and scary, maybe it was simply too much input all at one?

I guess she felt overwhelmed, scared, confused at that moment.

Didn't we all had these episodes in our lives, when we find ourselves in a new lighting out of nowhere?  Moments when the world suddenly feels too big, too bright, and we tremble inside, confused, lost, disorientated? 

Do you remember yours?

Her father, a big guy, jumped up on the stage immediately and ran directly to her. He wrapped her in his arms, said a few quiet words, and then… began to dance.. together with the rest of little pinky girls.
Still holding her. Still comforting her.
They moved together — the little girl, safe and protected in her father’s arms, and the rest of the girls, dancing around them. Isn't it cute and heartwarming? 

Now let's pause and bring yourself to this moment. What do you feel in your body when you read this, when your mind is creating this scene in your head? Maybe you remembering similar moment from your life, maybe rush of warmth sensations are moving through your chest?.. Just notice.

For me, this part of memory doesn’t exist — but I wish it did.
In my childhood, tears often was met with criticism, shame, or silence, kind of silent abandonment.
And as I picture that father’s embrace, I feel a deep contrast to my own lived experience:
a sinking in my back, tightness in my diaphragm, a squeeze in my throat, confusion in my mind—
the ache of loneliness and the absence of belonging.
My little brain was able to translate these feelings only to - you must try harder that you would get that belonging, that love.. that connection every little one needs as it would be the air we breathe to stay alive.


Now let's look from the nervous system lens what is happening in two different stories, in two different experiences. 

From this perspective, the little girl on stage experienced discomfort and attunement from her father.
Her body received the message:
“You are not alone. You belong — even when you’re scared, even when you cry.”
His hug, his embrace and support gave ventral vagal safety to the little one, it gave coregulation to this child — we are in this together, we are safe, you are safe.

The second girl — the one who didn’t receive that response — got a different message:

“You don’t belong when you have emotions, you are alone, punished with silence if you fail, show emotions or don't succeed.  You must be good, quiet, perfect to stay connected.”  

That’s survival energy.
Shame and fear activate collapse or striving — dorsal or sympathetic states —
and the child learns to either overachieve to get love or disappear.

This is how many of us grew up, didn't we? Our parents did what they knew the best, that knowledge was shaped by generations before them, marked by surviving.

But the good news - now we don't need to live as our parents and others before us did, we can explore voices in our heads and change them, reparent ourselves, our inner child, and give them what they always wanted and needed. We can give ourselves different patterns, the attunement we and many before us didn't receive. 

We don’t have to continue the same story.
We can become the ones who climb on the stage for ourselves —
who hold the trembling part of us and say,

“You belong. You are safe. I’m here with you.”