I remember in my early 20s, coming across a PBS lecture series by John Bradshaw on inner child work. I had already been sober for a decade and could digest the material enough to make the connection between my addictive behaviors and my childhood circumstances. But I wasn’t in therapy yet, and I didn’t realize then that diving too deeply into core wounds without guidance is like jumping into the deep end of the pool at four years old—you might not be able to tread water, and you wouldn’t know that until it was too late.
We all build psychological defenses to protect ourselves from early pain—shame, fear, anger. We defend our self-esteem and self-image. If we smash through these defenses too quickly without supportive philosophies or tools, we can end up lost in a scorching emotional desert, overwhelmed and desperate for relief.
So if you feel like you’re “going crazy” doing deep emotional work—don’t stop. Just shift gears. Pull back, adjust the approach, and build emotional fortitude. Don’t destroy your defenses. Replace them—over time, with practice, compassion, and thoughtful reflection. Writing, therapy, and meditation help us uncover these hidden patterns and create new, wiser responses.
This is where Stoicism offers profound value. Stoicism teaches discipline over despair, reason over reactivity. It urges us to accept what we cannot control, master what we can, and focus on virtue as the highest good. Stoic thought doesn’t deny emotion—it simply offers a resilient framework to meet life’s turbulence with inner calm.
Core tenets of Stoicism include:
- Virtue is the only true good—focus on character, not outcomes.
- Control what you can, let go of the rest—distinguish between inner and outer.
- Perception is everything—reframe your thoughts, and you change your reality.
- Memento mori—remember your mortality, and live with presence.
- Amor fati—love your fate, even the hard parts.
These principles can stabilize you as you explore the emotional terrain of childhood wounds. Stoicism doesn’t bypass pain—it gives you tools to walk through it with grace.
Proceed with your inner work slowly, skillfully, and with the courage to face yourself—not to break down, but to build up. This is not a race. It’s a reconstruction of the self, done brick by brick, breath by breath.