From circus dreams to healing trauma – a healer’s journey through father wounds and finding self-worth.

When I was a little girl, I used to dream about running away to the circus.

Not just because I loved elephants and acrobats, but because I wanted to escape. I wanted to find a place where I belonged. Where someone would see me, love me, feed me, and tuck me in at night. A place where I wasn’t always “a bad girl.”

The Trailer

I am young, I don’t know how old. We live in a little trailer on the outskirts of town, just Mommy and me. Grandpa got me a wooden toy box with giraffes on it from Toys R’ Us. I like playing with my toys and then putting them back inside.

I wake up hungry one morning when Mommy is asleep on the couch. I go through the cupboards. There is a candy dish with little colored gummy candies in it. They taste disgusting, but I eat them all.

I want Mommy to wake up and feed me and play with me. I call her name, but she won’t answer. I shake her, but she won’t wake up. I am afraid she might be dead, so I grab a nearby boot and whack her over the head with it. She wakes up, furious, and sends me to my room. I miss my Daddy, and wonder where he is.

The Circus

I must be about five years old, I think. It’s before I am in pre-school or kindergarten. We live in a bigger house now, with seafoam green paint on the garage walls. I have a blow-up pool outside that I spend hours swimming in each day. I wear my favorite swimsuit- the blue one with the sparkly ice cream cone on it.

It’s late morning or early afternoon, I can’t tell, but I am hungry, and Mommy has been asleep for hours. I know better than to wake her up. I go to the kitchen, pull a chair up to the counter, climb on top and get myself a bowl. I find a box of cereal and pour some in. It spills everywhere. I get the gallon jug of milk out of the fridge. It’s heavy. I pour some on top of the cereal. It also spills everywhere, but at least I have my food. I sit on the counter and eat.

Later, Mommy comes into the kitchen and finds the mess. She gets angry and yells at me. She tells me that I am a bad girl. I am not allowed to eat without permission. She pushes me outside onto the back patio and locks the door. A bee comes buzzing near me and it scares me. I start to scream and cry. I tug and bang on the sliding glass door, but it won’t open. She stands there, staring at me as I’m crying and begging her to open the door, then she turns around and walks away. I go off into the yard, down by the fence.

On the other side of the fence is a giant field where the carnival sets up. I’ve been told that if I’m bad, they’ll send me away to live with the gypsies. I like this idea. I want to get away from here. I want to leave and never come back. I decide to run away to the circus. I have a book with pictures of the circus in it, with elephants, trapeze artists, clowns, and baton twirlers. I think these people are like me. I could have friends here. I like this idea very much. I make up my mind to leave the first chance I get.

The Kitchen

It’s early morning and I am wide awake. Mommy is sleeping, and I want to play, but I know better than to wake her up. I find the nail polish and begin to paint my favorite toy- a plastic Fisher-Price kitchenette complete with cupboards, a stove, and a microwave. It has little plastic food: eggs, milk, cheese, and fruit. I like playing with food, because it seems like I am always hungry. I think this kitchen will look so pretty painted with my pink nail polish.

Later, Mommy comes in and sees what I’ve done. She is angry and yells at me, saying that I’m a bad girl. She says she will take my kitchen away and throw it in the garbage now. I get no breakfast that day and have to stay in my room, crying, and thinking about what I’ve done. I believe I am a terrible girl. That’s why Daddy isn’t here. That’s why Mommy hates me.

The Fridge

I wake up hungry in the middle of the night. I sneak to the kitchen and open the fridge, looking for something to eat. I see a jar of pink Pillsbury frosting. I open it and eat some. It tastes good. I use my finger and get a good dollop. I hear a noise and turn around, and Mommy is standing there with her arms crossed. She is angry. She tells me I am a bad girl. I am not supposed to eat without permission.

She tells me that now, I must eat the whole jar of frosting. Suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore, and I don’t want to. I am scared. She gets me a spoon and makes me take big bites. It’s too sweet. I don’t want to eat it anymore. She stands there and makes me do it anyway. I start to get sick. I run to the bathroom and throw up pink frosting everywhere, crying hysterically. Mommy tells me that I’ve learned my lesson now, and goes back to bed. I lay in the dark, my tear-stained face hot against the cold pillow. I have learned my lesson: I am a terrible child. I must earn love by being good.

The Closet

I am bored and all alone. Mommy is asleep on the couch. I know better than to wake her up. I start to look for something to do. In the closet, I spy a beautiful Cabbage Patch doll, sitting there unopened, in a box up on the top shelf. I grab my laundry basket and bring it over to the closet, turn it upside down, and climb up. I reach the top shelf and pull the box down.

The doll is so pretty. I know that it’s mine because it’s in my room. Plus, there’s a card with it that says my name on it. I open the box and bring her out. She has red hair that’s twisted in little yarn braids, and she’s wearing a pretty dress and white shoes. I love her. She is my best friend now. I can’t wait to have a tea party and show her to all my little stuffed animal friends.

I see some other stuff hiding in the top of the closet. I climb up my laundry basket ladder to find out what else is up there. I find a box, and look inside. There are pictures of Daddy and me, and pictures of Mommy and Daddy together. I remember that they used to be together. I remember that I used to have a Daddy who loved me. I get excited. I run out to find Mommy.

I show her the pictures of us, but to my surprise, she gets angry and takes the pictures away. I ask her where Daddy is now. She says that Daddy didn’t want me. She says to forget about him, that he’s never coming back. I begin to cry. I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he want me? What did I do wrong?

She then comes into my room and sees the opened box and the Cabbage Patch doll and yells at me. I wasn’t supposed to open that. It was one that you save in the box and never open, she says. I don’t understand. It’s a toy, and it was mine, I tell her. I wanted to play. She takes it away and puts it back into the now ruined box, setting it up high in the closet where I can still see. My best friend is taken away from me just like Daddy. I know it’s because I am a bad girl.

The Apartment

The new man in the house, Mommy’s boyfriend, is named Norm. He’s nice to me, and Mommy is nicer when he is around. I ask Mommy if he is my new Daddy. She asks him if I can call him Daddy. He says yes. I call him Daddy now, and I am very happy for a while. Then, one day Norm is gone, and we go to Nana’s apartment.

Mommy and Nana are fighting. I don’t understand what it’s all about, but Nana gives me cookies and lets me watch cartoons. I like it here. Mommy tells me we are staying here for a while. She’s made a bed for me in the dining room and even put up a little curtain so it’s like a room.

That night, I lay in bed and ask for Daddy. I want him to tuck me in. Mommy starts to cry. She says her and Norm broke up. She crawls into the bed with me and cries and cries. It’s ok Mommy, I tell her, putting my arms around her. It will be ok, Mommy, don’t cry, I say. Now I know that I won’t run away to the circus, after all. I will stay here and take care of Mommy, I vow to myself.

The Story

My father was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t understand why. I didn’t understand alcoholism or violence. I just knew that the one man who loved me left me and never came back.

My childhood was full of loneliness, empty cupboards, locked doors, and unanswered questions. I learned to survive by shrinking, hiding, and trying to be good enough to earn love.

And that sad story haunted me well into adulthood, tainting my relationships, hiding like a hungry ghost in the recesses of my body and soul.

The Present

Looking back, I can see the patterns more clearly. The hunger wasn’t just for food; it was for attention, safety, love, and the simple right to exist without apology. Every scene of play that got interrupted taught me that joy was dangerous, that my creative impulses couldn’t be trusted.

I learned to live in a constant state of hypervigilance, reading every environmental cue, managing everyone else’s emotions while abandoning my own needs. (This coded itself into my nervous system, and has been the main reason I started my own healing modality, The PRISM Method, which I now use with my clients). That final vow to stay and take care of my Mommy wasn’t love. It was the ultimate abandonment of self, the moment I learned to disappear into the role of caretaker.

But here’s what that little girl couldn’t have known: Her empathy wasn’t a burden—it was a gift. Her resourcefulness wasn’t desperation—it was brilliance. Her sensitivity wasn’t weakness—it was wisdom.

The circus I dreamed of wasn’t just an escape; it was my soul’s knowing that I belonged somewhere that celebrated my uniqueness rather than demanding compliance. Somewhere that different was beautiful, not bad, and where love was freely given, not earned.

Here’s what I’ve come to know:

• We can heal, even if we never had the father we needed.
• We can stop waiting for someone else to choose us.
• We can write a new story. One where we choose ourselves.

Father’s Day can stir up a lot: grief, confusion, loneliness… even guilt for the little ones still living inside us who are still waiting for someone to come home to them.

If you resonate with this, I want you to know:

You are not alone. You were never “bad.”

And your soul is still whole, still beautiful, still here, waiting to be loved by you.

If you’re ready to reclaim your worth and gently move the somatic imprints of childhood pain out of your body, I’m here. My healing sessions are sacred spaces for reconnection—to your body, your heart, and your truth.

💫 You don’t have to carry the old story forever.

You can write a new one. And I’d be honored to walk beside you.

💛 Book a healing session with me. 

Have childhood food trauma? Check out my mini course, Nourish Your Inner Child, a 21 day journey to healing food trauma.

You were always worthy of love. And you don’t have to run away to find it. 💗