Bailz Has a Blog

Tag: inner child healing

  • ✨ Aaaaaand We’re Back!

    ✨ Aaaaaand We’re Back!

    Today is the first day I’ve genuinely felt like myself in… honestly, I don’t even know how long. Definitely not since starting this blog. I’ve had flickers of my true self here and there—but they’ve been fleeting.

    This morning, I woke up ready. Ready to participate in my life again. Ready to take the reins.

    Now, I know what you might be thinking: It must be because I finally did all those things I said I would yesterday, right?

    Nope. Not even close. I managed to do a yoga video with Heath, but that is it.

    Instead, Heath and I talked. For hours. And not surface-level, small talk—we had an open, vulnerable, honest conversation that I didn’t realize I’d been aching for. I cracked open, and the floodgates came down. I spoke things I didn’t even know I’d been bottling up.

    And because I’m committed to documenting this journey truthfully, I want to share some of what we talked about—with Heath’s blessing, of course.

    💼 Generational Echoes

    Growing up, and honestly even now, my dad has always been a workaholic. And to be fair—he’s brilliant at what he does. His work ethic is unmatched. But it also meant that work almost always came first. Even on vacations or holidays, he’d be on his laptop, answering emails, solving problems.

    He never missed the big things—he was there, camera in hand, documenting every milestone “for posterity.” But day-to-day? He was rarely fully with us.

    I adore my dad. But I missed him a lot growing up. I wanted more time, more attention, more connection.

    And as they say—we often marry a version of our parents.

    Heath is also a workaholic. And just like my dad, he’s phenomenal at what he does. He manages a large team, he cares deeply about people, and he pours his heart into his job. It’s one of the things I love most about him.

    But sometimes, that passion means there’s not much left for anything else at the end of the day. I often get what feels like scraps of his attention, and I convince myself it’s fine. That I’m strong enough. That this is normal.

    But over time, it chipped away at me.

    😔 Loneliness in the Quiet Moments

    What I hadn’t realized until last night is that the loneliness had grown louder than I’d allowed myself to admit. Even when he was sitting right next to me, I missed him.

    I finally said the words I had been afraid to speak for years:

    “I’m scared you work so much because you don’t want to be home with me.”
    “I’m scared that if I left, you’d be fine—maybe even relieved because you would have more time and energy for work.”
    “I feel like I only get the best version of you when you’re away from work—and the rest of the time, I’m just… managing.”

    I let it all out—my fears, my longing, the echoes of my childhood loneliness. I laid it bare, and for the first time, I felt fully seen.

    He didn’t get defensive. He heard me. And that changed everything.

    ☀️ A New Kind of Morning

    No, I wasn’t asleep by 10 PM. It was closer to 3 AM. But I still woke up lighter.

    I let myself sleep in. Then I got up, brushed my teeth, high-fived myself in the mirror (thanks, Mel Robbins), laced up my sneakers, and stepped onto my walk pad. I walked for 45 minutes and watched The Office, comfort food for my soul.

    (Side note: If you haven’t watched the Superfan episodes on Peacock—what are you even doing? It’s like getting bonus time with old friends. I highly, highly recommend them.)

    After walking, I did some stretches, took some slow, deep belly breaths, and actually felt my body again. Not just existing in it—being in it. Sweaty, a little winded, and so very alive.

    🍝 A Simple Kind of Joy

    After walking, stretching, breathing, and then showering, I volunteered as tribute to go grocery shopping. We needed a few things, so I threw on a cute outfit and made a Trader Joe’s trip feel like a mini adventure.

    No overthinking. No dread. Just me, out in the world, present.

    I sang my heart out to The Tortured Poets Department in the car. I chatted with the cashier. I picked up treats for the dogs. I got complimented on my outfit. And the best part? I didn’t feel overwhelmed once.

    That is HUGE for me.

    🌱 Lighter, Not Fixed (Yet)

    I still have goals I’m not quite meeting. I still have healing to do. But today felt like a turning point.

    All because I said the things I was afraid to say.

    I told the truth—not just to Heath, but to myself.

    And in doing so, I put down a weight I didn’t realize I’d been carrying.

    I feel lighter. I feel more like me.

    I’m not all the way back, but I’m on my way.

    And that, my friends, is enough for today. 💜

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  • I’m Just Bailz

    I’m Just Bailz

    One of my goals right now is to be very intentional with the content I’m consuming—whether it’s related to my healing journey or just comfort content I’m using to find balance. If I’m going to sit down and give my attention to something, I want to give it some thought first. I’m letting go of living passively… or at least, I’m trying to.

    A few nights ago, my husband had a work dinner, so I had the evening to myself. I considered reading The Art of Happiness or watching a Mel Robbins podcast on YouTube. But eventually, I realized I was “shoulding” on myself. Deep down, I was craving comfort content. I wanted to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. So I asked myself: what if I chose comfort content I could also explore through the lens of this healing project? Best of both worlds. I put on Barbie.

    I knew I made the right call the second I saw that pink Warner Brothers logo.

    When Barbie first came out, I fell in love with it instantly—like so many others. And something surprising happened… I suddenly loved the color pink. Which was a pretty big deal for me.

    See, for most of my adult life, I was staunchly anti-pink. I never really examined why. I just told myself I didn’t like pink. I repeated it constantly—if I had a choice of colors, I’d skip over pink every time. I didn’t consider myself a “girlie girl,” and pink was for girlie girls. Those were the rules. So it wasn’t for me. Flawless logic, right? Oh, younger Bailz. So rigid in her thinking.

    But after watching Barbie, I had to pause and reconsider. Why had I stopped liking pink?

    I remembered liking it as a kid. I’ve always been a purple girlie, but pink was never the enemy. Somewhere along the way, though, it became something I avoided. And as I sat with it, I realized what had happened: society taught me that being “girlie” was weak. Pink was girlie. Therefore, pink was weak. And I did not want to be seen as weak. I was such a Sasha at the beginning of the movie, you guys. So very much.

    But I didn’t realize I was even thinking that way until Barbie helped me see it.

    Gloria’s “It is literally impossible to be a woman” monologue cracked something open in me. It felt like being gently shaken awake from a life I didn’t realize I had been sleeping through. The timing couldn’t have been more aligned.

    Just a few months earlier, in May of 2023, I had been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and started chemo. It was the hardest season of my life—and the most transformative. I had lived in fear for so long: fear of rejection, of not being enough, of being too much. Fear of life itself, honestly. But cancer forced me to face things head-on. I knew I wanted to approach this new chapter differently. And the messages in Barbie were exactly what I needed to hear as I began rewriting everything.

    The line that gutted me most wasn’t what I would have guessed. And it wasn’t from a Barbie. It came from a Ken—after the Barbies had reclaimed Barbie Land. He says, “We were fighting because we didn’t know who we were.”

    And just like that, something clicked in my brain.

    I didn’t really know who I was either. And not knowing who you are creates friction with the world—friction that shows up everywhere, from how you show up at work to how you talk to yourself when no one’s around. But like my relationship with pink, I hadn’t seen the pattern until I paused long enough to ask why.

    This movie became a landmark on my personal growth map. It genuinely changed the way I see myself and the world. So of course, it made sense to return to it now, as comfort content I could experience through the lens of intentional healing.

    One of the coolest things about re-watching something (or re-reading, or re-listening) is that the content stays the same, but I’ve changed. I’m not the same person who watched it the first time. So I notice different things. Different characters and messages resonate. I bring new insights and lived experiences to the table.

    When I first saw Barbie, I related deeply to Ken. I felt invisible. I felt like I only mattered if I had approval from others. I was struggling in every area of my life. But when I rewatched it this week, I saw myself more in Stereotypical Barbie. I feel like I’ve metaphorically chosen the Birkenstock. I’m on this journey to find myself, to heal, to celebrate who I am.

    There will be hard days. I will absolutely feel like Depression Barbie sometimes. I expect that. But I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m learning to be okay with the mess of it. I’m reconnecting with my inner child. I know this work is worth doing.

    Being intentional with my content is helping me stay present and mindful. It’s reminding me that I can be gentle with myself—rest, comfort myself with familiar favorites, and still be awake to new insights. I can take care of my heart and mind at the same time.

    Also, like Ruth, I too always think best at kitchen tables. That’s where I’m sitting now, writing this post. It’s where I’ve written most of them, actually.

    Thank you for being here. Thank you for witnessing this season of rediscovery. Stay tuned for more tales from the life of Bailz. 💜