When Inner Child Work Goes Too Far

“What is little Maddy feeling right now?” I hear my therapist say over the Zoom screen in the middle of our weekly therapy session.

I know that sounds like a strange question to ask a 30-year-old woman, but then again, if you’re a frequent therapy-goer, it probably sounds right on brand. Alongside the questions, “How does that make you feel?” and “Do you know what your boundaries are?”, in 2026 you’re not likely to make it far in the therapy process without a middle-aged white lady in a cardigan asking you, “Now, can you tell me more about your inner child?”

When did therapy culture become so obsessed with uncovering the hidden wants and desires of this metaphorical living, breathing five-year-old that apparently lives inside all of us? And is there merit in uncovering our repressed inner infant, or is it just a bunch of therapy garbled goop?

Gen Z, in particular, seems inspired to bring back the 1940s Jungian concept of the “childhood archetype” in their #healingera. I’m sure the Swiss psychologist would be pleased to hear twenty-somethings canceling their Friday night social plans, expressing to their friends or partner something like, “Sorry, my inner child needs my attention tonight.” Sounds pretty evolved… right? Or would he wonder, like I do, about the line between honoring and understanding our inner child and overindulging — or, dare I say, coddling — our inner child?

An example of this phenomenon came up for me recently in my personal life with one of my best friends, Katie. Katie and I started a therapy podcast in the last year called Angsty Therapists, where we basically take all of our angst as therapists and speak our thought-provoking and, at times, controversial opinions into a mic. Between designing our cover, writing our theme song, and brainstorming weekly topics, the whole process has been nothing short of a creative dream. And though the execution has very much challenged my adult self to step it up, keep up with deadlines, and generally be on top of it, in its entirety the podcast has been a play space for — yes, you named it — my inner child.

In a recent podcast team huddle call, my inner child got ACTIVATED. And then I had an “aha” moment. We are talking about the inner child all wrong. In encouraging people to honor their inner child, we are, at times — even if unintentionally — enabling people to act like children.

This is how it went down. Katie and I were on the phone, gabbing, catching up on life, dating stress, work, and of course planning our year ahead with our podcast. One thing to note about my relationship with Katie: she is one of those friends that is (as we like to call it) a lifer. She’s the kind of friend who cheered for me in her bridesmaid dress as I walked down the aisle for my wedding and the kind of friend who stayed with me on the phone as I sobbed my eyes out signing my divorce papers. To put it simply, we’re besties, life partners (platonic ones, of course, because, as we like to joke, Katie — unlike me — doesn’t have a gay bone in her body).

When we attach to people deeply, even platonically, we attach with ALL of our parts. Not just the fun, easygoing parts of ourselves — the messy, selfish, difficult, and emotional ones too. According to attachment theory, “Patterns of attachment formed in early life carry forward into later relationships” (Mary Ainsworth, 1978). Which, in essence, means there is no way to attach to someone as an adult and not have our childhood parts get activated.

“So, Mads…” Katie began on the phone as I took a slurp of my coffee, “You know I love our podcast, but I need to take a baby step back from it right now. I’m overwhelmed with my one-year-old, starting a new therapy practice, trying to sell my house… and I just need to slow it down. I still want to do it; I just don’t have as much time to pour into it as I did before right now.”

Sounds pretty reasonable, right? To an adult, sure.

“Oh…” I replied with a crackly voice, holding back tears. “Yeah… um, okay. I mean, we don’t even need to do it anymore. Whatever. I mean, whatever you want.” A sudden sass took over my tone. I might as well have said, “I don’t even like it anymore. I never even liked it. HUMPH. I hate you!”

Why couldn’t I have just responded with, “Of course, that makes so much sense, Katie. You have so much going on! We can take a step back, or better yet, I can step it up and do more of the work right now. I got it”?

Little Maddy was in her feels. The defensive “I never really cared about this in the first place” reaction I responded from was an attempt to protect little Maddy from something that felt too vulnerable to articulate in the moment. As I rushed to end the call, I lay with my back upon the grass of the field I was lying on, covered in tears.

I felt shut down. Ashamed. Partially from the call and partially because I was a grown woman lying on the ground crying like a child. I surrendered to my emotional breakdown, ignoring the couple with their toddler giving me a weird look. I breathed into the feeling, letting the world slow a little bit, taking in the soft, cool air.

I saw her. Little Maddy. Without the defenses, without the protective walls. Suddenly the feeling felt so pure. Oh. Little Maddy had let herself feel hope.

Our podcast had unlocked my desire to play — my call to be curious and full of wonderment. I let myself be excited, really excited, about this project. I wanted to draw rainbows and play with butterflies, and it dawned on me that maybe my friend… didn’t.

Wow. I exhaled. That makes so much sense. No wonder I had this big reaction! It was a childhood disappointment. And to connect to Katie, our podcast, and life at all IS to face and embrace childhood hope and disappointment.

What a relief. I’m not crazy. The only problem was, I realized as I rubbed the snot and mud from my face, that I reacted to my friend LIKE A CHILD. Actually, I didn’t even consider her feelings at all! She told me she was struggling, overwhelmed, burnt out — and now I’m over here rolling around in my own self-pity, sobbing about our unfinished butterfly drawing. What kind of friend am I?

Later that night, Katie sent me a text: “I love you and I care about our podcast. Let’s talk about it again tomorrow.” I softened. Sometimes your friends will let you be a little bit of a child.

We spoke again a few days later and immediately laughed, as we do. “I was literally acting like a baby,” I giggled. “Yes, hahah, you were,” she agreed. Katie is one to call it as it is, which you’ll come to learn if you do follow our pod.

I sat upright on my balcony chair, already feeling less regressed. With my newfound awakening, the reality of navigating our inner children felt clear to me. Most of us have inner children that need reparenting. And our inner child WILL get triggered in our closest relationships. But it’s not other people’s jobs to re-parent our inner child for us. It’s ours.

I held little Maddy tight. Her feelings matter to me.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling overwhelmed,” I said, soothingly and assertively. “You have so much going on. I mean, I’m struggling to keep up my practice and I’m literally single and have all the time in the world! I can’t imagine doing this with a child! It’s okay to be overwhelmed!”

I heard a soft sniffle over the phone, which, if you know Katie, is rare to hear. She’s your typical “I’m a bad bitch and you’ll never see me sweat” archetype. But guess what? She has an inner child too. And if I let mine dominate me, how could I ever even make the slightest room for hers?

“You’re right,” she surrendered. “I can’t do it all. And that’s hard for me. It’s really, really hard. And the last thing I would ever want to do is to mooch off of anyone,” she added worriedly.

“What if you just let me catch us,” I said confidently, with a sudden ability to actually think outside of myself and my own emotional experience. “I can handle the bulk of the podcast. All you need to do is show up.”

She sighed. “Okay, yes.” She laughed. “Thank you.”

Now, did I actually handle all of the podcast stuff? Of course not. Katie’s a bad bitch and would never stop pulling her weight, even if she were having open-heart surgery. But that’s not the point.

In our little partnership of two, she needed space to fall and to be held. I needed to hold little Maddy, and she needed to hold little Katie, and she needed to hold little Maddy (a little), and I needed to hold little Katie (a little).

Naturally, this whole encounter inspired our most recent episode, entitled, “Your Inner Child Is Running the Show (And We Kind of Agree).” Because, well, we couldn’t get stuck in our feelings for too long. We have a podcast to make.

Before you let your inner child run the show — or your relationships — get to know him or her. What makes little you laugh, dream, imagine, love? Let yourself access the part of you that feels unhinged creativity and unapologetic joy. Even roll around in the dirt if you need to. But please come back to your adult self. Your adult self is the one who can actualize these dreams.

And in the words of Katie, who continues to humbly manage my frequent emotional breakdowns and always inspires me to move forward, goal-directed and fearless:

“You should probably just get your shit together. We have too much to do.”
(Katie Jung, 2026.)