Talking to the One in the Back Seat: A Love Note to Your Scared Inner Child

The other day, I was scrolling through social media—something I do sometimes when I’m tired or needing a little distraction. But this time, something stopped me in my tracks. It was a short video, just a minute or two long, but it nearly brought me to tears.

In the video, a woman was driving and speaking softly to herself. Her hand rested over her heart, and her voice was filled with the kind of tenderness that made me pause everything and just watch. She was talking to a very young, very scared part of herself—the part that was worried she would “get in trouble” for being just a few minutes late to an appointment.

She spoke aloud, as if the little one she was comforting was sitting in the back seat of the car.

“I know how upsetting it is for you when we’re running late. I can feel your heart pounding, and I feel how worried you are. I know this is scary for you, and I’m here with you. Let’s take a few deep breaths while we drive. No one is going to be mad at you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. I wasn’t crying because something was wrong—I was crying because something was so right. Watching this woman offer such deep kindness to herself was like witnessing something sacred. It felt like watching someone parent their own heart.

And it got me thinking:

What would it be like if more of us spoke to ourselves this way when big feelings arose?

What Is Reparenting?

For those who may not be familiar with the term, reparenting is the practice of caring for the most vulnerable, tender parts of ourselves—especially the ones that were neglected, misunderstood, or criticized in childhood. It’s not about blaming our parents or caretakers. It’s about recognizing that we all carry wounded, scared, or unmet needs inside of us. And it’s about learning how to meet those needs now—with the kind of love, presence, and safety we may not have received then.

Sometimes, the child within us isn’t buried deep—it’s right there, just under the surface. The part that panics when we think someone’s upset with us. The part that spirals into shame when we make a mistake. The part that feels like love is conditional, or that safety is always just out of reach.

And when those parts get activated, they don’t need shame or logic or a pep talk.

They need a loving, trustworthy presence.

They need a voice that says, “I see you. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

The One in the Back Seat

What I loved most about that video wasn’t just what she said—it was the posture she took. She wasn’t yelling at herself to “get it together.” She wasn’t rushing to fix or dismiss the fear. She was simply being with it. Her hand on her heart, her voice soft and steady, her words full of comfort.

It made me think of how often we try to push through our feelings or scold ourselves for having them.

But what if, instead of trying to suppress or silence our fear, we imagined that scared part of us as a small child—maybe five or six years old—sitting in the back seat, clutching a stuffed animal or biting their lip with worry? Would we yell at them to “hurry up” or tell them they’re overreacting?

Of course not.

We’d turn around and offer every ounce of reassurance we had. We’d speak slowly, kindly. We’d say, “You’re safe. I’m not leaving you. I know this is hard, and I’m right here.”

That is reparenting.

It is healing for the tender parts of your heart to hear such reassurance.

It is sacred for you to know all of the parts of you deserve love and care.

The Nervous System Doesn’t Know Time

Here’s something important: when we get triggered or overwhelmed, our nervous system doesn’t always know the difference between “then” and “now.” That tightness in your chest? That panic over being late or making a mistake? It’s often not about this moment—it’s about that one.

The part of you who’s scared now might be the same one who got scolded for missing the bus in second grade… or who learned that love was something you had to earn by being perfect, quiet, on time, and pleasing.

And when that part gets activated, no amount of “rational thinking” will settle it. But presence will. Loving words will. A steady hand over your heart and a gentle breath will.

The antidote to panic isn’t perfection.

It’s compassion.

What It Can Sound Like

If this is new for you, here are a few things you might try saying to the one in your “back seat” the next time a wave of fear or shame comes over you:

• “I know this is a lot. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

• “You’re not in trouble. I see how hard you’re trying.”

• “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

• “It’s safe to feel what you’re feeling.”

• “You don’t have to be perfect to be loved.”

These aren’t magic words. They don’t instantly make the feelings go away. But they do create enough safety for the feelings to move through, rather than get stuck inside you.

I’ve used some version of these phrases with my own scared parts more times than I can count. Sometimes it’s in a whisper. Sometimes it’s through tears. Sometimes it’s just placing my hand over my heart and breathing deeply until the storm passes.

But every time, it’s an act of deep care.

An act of choosing love over judgment.

An act of remembering I am no longer that child—but I carry her, and I can love her now.

A Practice You Can Try

If you’re open, here’s a small but powerful practice to carry into your week:

When something triggers you—whether it’s being late, making a mistake, getting bad news, or feeling shame—pause for just ten seconds.

Place your hand over your heart. Take a slow, deep breath. And say to yourself, either silently or aloud:

“Little one, I see you. You’re scared, and that’s okay.

You are not alone. I’m here now. I love you.”

You don’t have to believe it right away. Just keep showing up. Over time, these words become a pathway. A rhythm. A doorway to safety that lives inside you.

What the World Could Be

I think often about what our world would be like if more people practiced this kind of self-kindness. Not in a performative or self-indulgent way—but in a rooted, fierce, and nurturing way.

What if we each became the parent we always needed?

What if every meeting with our inner child was a moment of reunion instead of rejection?

What if the next time a storm swelled in your chest, you remembered that someone—you—knows how to steady the wheel, take a breath, and say, “I’ve got you”?

There is a child in the back seat. They don’t need you to be perfect.

They just need to know you’re still there. Still driving. Still choosing love.

You can be that someone.

Right here, right now, with one hand over your heart giving love to the part of you that needs it.