The Many Hiding Places

 For most of my life, the little girl inside me was looking for somewhere to hide.

Sometimes she hid behind relationships. Sometimes behind motherhood. Sometimes behind the hope that another person could make her feel safe.

But those were not her only hiding places.

She hid in creativity, disappearing for hours into projects, art, and imagination. Creating gave her relief from a world that often felt too harsh and overwhelming.

She hid in helping others too.

That began when I was young and eventually became part of my identity. Nearly every path I chose involved service, healing, teaching, or caring for others. There was genuine love in that, but there was also a frightened child who felt safer focusing on someone else’s needs than her own.

Over the years, there were other hiding places.

Food.

Alcohol.

Drugs.

Busyness.

Chaos.

Anything that could soften fear or pull attention away from what lived underneath.

None of these things were wrong. They were simply the ways I learned to survive.

But one by one, life has removed them.

The relationships.

The distractions.

The attachments.

Even much of the creativity that once filled my days has gone quiet.

And now she stands exposed.

The little girl who spent a lifetime searching for safety outside herself.

For a long time, that exposure felt terrifying.

Today, it feels different.

Today, I wonder if what I call exposure is really an invitation.

An invitation to stop hiding.

To stop running.

To stop looking outside myself for what has always been waiting within.

Perhaps this is not the end of her hiding places.

Perhaps it is the beginning of her freedom.