inner child healing

What Armor Do You Reach For When You’re Afraid?

There’s a moment—sometimes so small you almost miss it—when fear slips inside you before you even realize what has happened. A tightening in the chest. A clenching of the jaw. A sudden urge to run, hide, shut down, lash out, or pretend you don’t feel what you feel.

Most of us don’t recognize these reactions as fear. We call them personality traits, or coping mechanisms, or “just how I am.” But beneath the surface, fear is often the quiet puppeteer pulling the strings. And every time fear rises, we reach for the same armor we learned long ago.

Armor that once protected us…
Now keeps us from becoming who we’re meant to be.

Understanding the armor you reach for is one of the most powerful forms of self-awareness you can develop. Because once you recognize it, you can choose differently. You can choose growth instead of protection. Truth instead of avoidance. Healing instead of hiding.

The Armor We Learn Before We Know Any Better

None of us are born armored. We learn our protection.

As children, we pick up patterns based on what made us feel safe:

  • Some of us learned to become invisible.
  • Some learned to become perfect.
  • Some learned to be pleasers.
  • Some learned to be fighters.
  • Some learned to stay busy so we’d never have to feel.
  • Some learned to make others laugh so no one would see our pain.

We didn’t choose these traits freely; they were survival. They were our shield against the painful, confusing, or overwhelming moments of our early lives.

And because they worked for a time, we carried them with us.

But armor that protects a child often imprisons an adult.

Fear Disguises Itself as Strength

Fear rarely announces itself. It cloaks itself in behaviors that appear strong or controlled:

  • Overthinking (so you never make the wrong move)
  • Perfectionism (so no one can criticize you)
  • Anger (so you never have to feel vulnerable)
  • People-pleasing (so no one can abandon you)
  • Numbing (so you never have to feel the hurt)
  • Withdrawal (so you stay safe from conflict)

These behaviors look like strength from the outside, but inside they feel like panic. We cling to them because we’re terrified of what might happen if we put the armor down.

Fear convinces us that if we stop controlling, pleasing, hiding, avoiding, or performing… we will fall apart.

But the truth is this:
The armor is what’s keeping us stuck.

What Armor Do You Reach For?

This is not a question to shame you—it’s a question to free you.

Take a moment. Get honest with yourself. When fear rises in your body, when someone triggers an old wound, when a situation feels risky or uncertain, what is your instinctive reaction?

Do you reach for anger?

Does it feel safer to bite first so no one can hurt you?

Do you reach for silence?

Do you disappear into yourself so no one sees you struggle?

Do you reach for control?

Do you plan, micromanage, over-function, or hyper-organize to avoid feeling powerless?

Do you reach for performance?

Do you become who others need you to be instead of who you really are?

Do you reach for perfection?

Do you demand so much from yourself that failure feels impossible—even if joy becomes impossible, too?

Do you reach for self-sufficiency?

Do you refuse to need anyone, even when you’re breaking, because relying on someone feels too dangerous?

Your armor once protected you.
Now it prevents you from receiving the love, connection, and ease you’ve worked so hard to create.

Armor Is a Story We Tell Ourselves

Every form of armor is built on a belief:

  • “If I show how I really feel, they’ll leave.”
  • “If I don’t get it perfect, I’ll be judged.”
  • “If I don’t stay strong, everything will fall apart.”
  • “If I ask for help, they’ll see I’m weak.”
  • “If I let someone close, I’ll get hurt again.”

These stories feel true because they protected us once. But they are outdated. They are echoes from the past masquerading as present-day truth.

And you can rewrite them.

Authentic Strength Requires Vulnerability

Putting your armor down doesn’t mean becoming defenseless. It means choosing a different kind of protection—one rooted in truth, grounded boundaries, and self-trust.

Real strength is:

  • Saying “I’m hurt” instead of lashing out
  • Saying “I need help” instead of pretending you’re fine
  • Saying “No” even when your voice shakes
  • Saying “This bothers me” instead of silently absorbing it
  • Saying “I’m afraid” instead of creating distance

Armor hides you.
Vulnerability reveals you.
Revealing yourself is how you grow.

Taking Off Your Armor, One Layer at a Time

You don’t remove armor by ripping it off overnight. You remove it the way you put it on—slowly, instinctively, intentionally.

Here’s where to begin:

1. Notice your instinct.

Fear has a physical signature. Your shoulders tense, your heartbeat shifts, your stomach tightens. Start paying attention to what happens in your body before your armor snaps into place.

2. Name the armor you’re reaching for.

Call it out: “I’m trying to control.”
Or: “I’m shutting down.”
Naming it disrupts the pattern.

3. Ask what fear is actually saying.

What is the wound underneath? Rejection? Abandonment? Shame?
The armor is the symptom. The fear is the root.

4. Choose a softer response.

Not perfect. Not polished. Just softer.
One breath. One pause. One honest sentence.

5. Celebrate your awareness.

Even catching yourself mid-pattern is growth. Removing armor is a lifelong practice, not a single breakthrough.

You Don’t Have to Live Behind Your Armor

There is a version of you who trusts your own strength.
Who doesn’t need to control everything to feel safe.
Who allows love in, even when it feels unfamiliar.
Who speaks your truth instead of burying it.
Who feels deeply, openly, fearlessly.

That version of you is not created by fear.
It is revealed when you stop hiding behind it.

Your armor is not who you are.
Your armor is who you became when you didn’t feel safe.
And now that you are healing, you can choose differently.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What form of armor do you reach for most often—anger, perfectionism, silence, control, or something else?
  2. What belief sits underneath that armor?
  3. When was the first time you remember needing that protection?
  4. Who would you be without that armor today?
  5. What is one softer, more honest response you can practice this week?
  • S – See your armor with honesty
  • L – Listen to what fear is trying to tell you
  • A – Allow vulnerability to replace old defenses
  • Y – Yield to growth, not protection

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What armor do you reach for when you’re afraid—and what does it protect you from?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s ready to outgrow their old defenses, send them this post.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that we don’t have to live life behind a shield.

Grow Into the Person Who Would Have Protected You as a Child

There’s a tender truth many of us carry quietly: as children, we weren’t always given the protection, love, or safety we deserved. Whether it was neglect, criticism, chaos, or simply the absence of someone to stand up for us, those early experiences leave marks.

But here’s the gift that healing gives us: we can grow into the very person we needed back then.

We can become the protector, the nurturer, the advocate—the voice we longed for when we were small.

And when we do that, we not only honor the child we once were—we free the adult we are today.

The Wounds We Carry From Childhood

As children, we’re like sponges. We absorb the words, actions, and silences of the adults around us.

If you were constantly criticized, you may still struggle with perfectionism.
If you were ignored, you may still feel unworthy of attention.
If you were shamed for your feelings, you may still doubt your right to have them.

These patterns don’t just disappear when we grow up. They echo in our relationships, our choices, and the way we see ourselves. And yet—those echoes don’t define us.

What defines us is how we choose to respond now.

Becoming the Protector You Needed

So, what does it mean to grow into the person who would have protected you as a child?

It means listening to yourself without judgment.
It means setting boundaries where none existed before.
It means saying the words you once longed to hear.

For me, that looked like finally telling myself: “You’re safe now. You matter. You don’t have to earn love—you already deserve it.”

I began practicing what I never heard enough of as a child, and in doing so, I gave my inner child something powerful: safety.

Reparenting Yourself

One of the most healing practices I’ve learned is reparenting—becoming the parent I always needed.

That means:

  • Showing compassion when I make a mistake instead of berating myself.
  • Nurturing myself with rest, food, and care when I feel depleted.
  • Speaking up in situations where I once would have shrunk or stayed silent.
  • Celebrating wins—no matter how small—because joy deserves to be noticed.

When you reparent yourself, you begin to break the cycle. You no longer hand the baton of pain to the next generation—you hand them a blueprint of healing.

Protecting Your Present Self

It’s not just about healing the child within—it’s about protecting the adult you are now.

That means not letting people treat you the way others once did.
That means saying no without apology.
That means refusing to bend yourself to fit into spaces that don’t value you.

Because here’s the truth: every time you protect yourself today, you’re also protecting the child inside you.

You’re proving to them that they matter. That they are safe. That someone finally has their back.

The Power of Forgiveness—For Yourself

Growing into the protector also means letting go of the guilt and shame you may still carry.

You were just a child. You did not deserve the pain you went through.

But now, as an adult, you may need to forgive yourself for the coping mechanisms you developed—whether that was numbing, hiding, or lashing out. Those were survival tools. They were never proof that you were broken—they were proof that you wanted to live.

Forgiving yourself is part of becoming the guardian you needed. Because a good protector doesn’t punish a child for trying to survive—they honor their courage.

A Love Letter to Your Younger Self

Take a moment. Picture yourself as a child.

See the face. The innocence. The hurt. The hope.

Now say to them: “I’m here now. I won’t leave you. I will keep you safe.”

When you grow into the person who would have protected you, you’re giving that child the promise they always deserved. And you’re giving your adult self the strength to move forward with love, resilience, and freedom.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What did you most need as a child that you didn’t always receive?
  2. In what ways do you still criticize yourself the way others once criticized you?
  3. What boundaries could you set today that would have protected your younger self?
  4. How can you practice reparenting in your daily life?
  5. If you could say one thing to your younger self right now, what would it be?

S – Speak kindly to yourself, especially in moments of failure
L – Let your inner child feel seen, safe, and loved
A – Align your actions with the protector you needed
Y – Yield to healing, even when it feels uncomfortable

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What have you done to become the protector your younger self needed?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s working to heal their inner child, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that it’s never too late to give ourselves the love and protection we always deserved.

The Stories From Our Past

Before I began my recovery journey, I lived by stories that weren’t mine. I believed I was different. Less-than. Unworthy of good things. And I made decisions from that place—choosing people and situations that reinforced the story I was already telling myself.

Even the small things stuck. A dismissive comment. A look. A joke that hit too close to home. I internalized those moments and built my identity around them. And as I kept repeating those stories to myself, I gave them power. I let them define me.

When I finally sought help for my mental health, one of the first exercises I was given was to write down all the things I believed about myself. Most were negative. Then came the harder part: asking if those things were actually true.

It turned out, most of them weren’t. They were stories I had inherited. And I had the power to release them.

Telling a New Story

Doing the work—challenging those false beliefs—wasn’t easy. But with time, support, and a lot of self-reflection, I began to rewrite the script.

I started telling myself the truth.

That I’m capable. That I’m worthy. That I’m more than enough.

The stories from my past didn’t disappear. But they no longer control me. Today, I use them as tools. When those old narratives resurface, I pause. I ask myself: Is this true? Is this helping me grow? Is this a story I want to keep?

And if the answer is no, I let it go.

Instead, I choose to tell stories of healing. Of courage. Of growth. I choose relationships that reflect the truth of who I am, not the lies I once believed.

You get to choose your story, too.

SLAY on.

SLAY Reflection: What Story Are You Living?

  • Are you holding onto any stories from childhood that no longer serve you?
  • Who or what shaped those beliefs—and are they actually true?
  • What have those stories cost you in your adult life?
  • What’s one belief you could rewrite today?
  • What story would you rather live—and what’s one small step you can take toward it?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one story from your past you’re ready to rewrite?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s still living by an old story that isn’t serving them, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that we’re the ones holding the pen.