I Took My Inner Child on a Date

Notes on unmasking the child within

Unmasking is the act of coming home to yourself—a journey that is both comforting and uncomfortable. It’s like sitting down to your first home-cooked meal in a long time, only to hear, “So, how are things going?” just as you take your first bite. In that moment, you hesitate, unsure whether to open up or simply smile and say, “Everything’s fine.”

Lemme, tell you a story.

When I began my journey home, I told myself everything was fine. I just needed rest and time to sort out my life before heading off on the next adventure. But when I got home, I noticed a little girl. She looked familiar, like an old acquaintance I hadn’t seen in years. She sat quietly as the adults rushed past her, too preoccupied with deadlines and dreams to notice her at all.

She was creating something—something beautiful—with her words. But no one stopped to listen.

I stepped closer, careful not to intrude. To my surprise, the moment she realized I was paying attention, she lit up.

“Hey, do you want to hear my poem?”

“I would love to,” I said.

So, she shared her poems with me. We read books, we danced like no one was watching. For a few hours, time didn’t matter. It was just us, existing in the joy of creation.

But eventually, I told her I had to go—I had adult things to do. She paused, then asked softly, Can I come too?

I hesitated. Could I take her with me? What if they laughed when we danced and sang? What if they told her she was too loud, too quirky, too childish?

“Maybe next time,” I said.

Her shoulders dropped. And in that instant, I felt something inside me crack. Because it wasn’t just her disappointment—it was mine. She wasn’t just some girl. She was me. She was the heart of everything I once loved. And yet, somewhere along the way, life had made me rely on my head instead. I strategized, planned, and analyzed everything. But I did so without heart.

Unmasking is coming home. And home is where the heart is.

My Masterpiece in Crayon

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So I took her on a lil’ date date

Yesterday, I went on a date with my inner child. She had been tugging at my mind, asking for play, wanting to feel cute and carefree. So, I listened. We created a playlist and hopped in the car with twenty dollars in our pocket and a smile.

If you love R&B, Pop, and Rap from 1999 to 2005, then you will love this playlist. If you want to create your own, play one song you like and let it auto-play the rest.

I PROMISE you will thank me later.

Back in the day, a trip to the beauty supply store was mandatory before going anywhere. As a kid, I’d walk in, scanning the shelves for a clear pink, purple, or orange lip gloss—bonus points if I found flip-flops or those little slide-in shoes to match my fit. My gloss always stayed in my pocket, ready to reapply the moment my lips didn’t feel sticky enough.

This time was no different. We walked out with watermelon lip gloss, pink nail polish, hair ball-balls, and butterfly clips—and I still had $5 left. Just enough for a bag of watermelon gummies, which I happily munched on in the car later that night.

The lip gloss section In my local beauty supply

Afterward, I came home, painted my nails, and colored while the polish dried. Then, I did my hair and let the moment keep unfolding. I played my favorite childhood songs, danced around the living room, and snapped pictures of myself—just because.

Even in a house full of people, no one interrupted my flow to ask what was for dinner or to report that the puppy had pooped on the floor. For the first time in a while, I had space to just be. And I realized that space had always been there—I just had to claim it.

Me on my daughter’s bed while she slept in mine

The night ended with a 9 PM store run to get some things for my mom and use the $5 I saved earlier for some gummy candy— watermelon of course. I drove in my adult car with the freedom of a teenager, music loud, lip gloss popping, and nowhere important to be.

Last night, I went on a date.

And I saw her.

I saw me.

I can’t wait to see her again.

Now It’s Your Turn

When was the last time you spent intentional time with your inner child? What did they love? What small joy can you bring back into your life just for them?

This week, I challenge you to take your inner child on a date—big or small, it doesn’t matter. Buy that thing you always wanted as a kid. Listen to that one song that takes you back. Make space for play.

Tell me all about it in the comments. I’d love to hear what you did and how it felt.

Let’s go home!

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