The Girl On The Red Bike

There's a memory I've carried for years without fully realizing it.

I'm 7 years old, Forêt de Senart, a school bike ride. I have my little red bike - I loved that bike so much. And as a teacher looks down at me, joyful and ready to go, she says something I will not forget: "You'll never be able to keep up". (for context i am short, 4'11 now, and was short then!)

One sentence. What some would call a small thing you could just brush off. But small-T trauma doesn't announce itself. It slips in quietly, finds the cracks already forming, and roots deep. That sentence landed in a wound that had been building long before that day,t he wound of Not Being Enough. Of needing to prove, to perform, to fit in, to belong. Of fearing that if you couldn't keep up, you'd be left behind.

I didn't know that I would then spend decades running on the engine that moment solidified.

The wound doesn't disappear. It drives.

The compulsion to perform. The exhausting need to be seen as capable, as special, as someone worth keeping. The way you stay in situations that are slowly costing you something essential, because leaving doesn't feel like an option, proving the teacher right.

It shows up at work. In how little you rest. In how hard you try when you should be stepping back.

And it shows up in love. In the connections where you keep hoping up for someone who can't quite meet you there. Where you hold on, not because it's good for you, but because letting go would mean counter-intuitively choosing yourself. And that little girl never quite learned she was worth choosing.

The healing I didn't expect

Recently, and with all that deep inner work I have been engaging with, during that quiet space between dreaming and waking up, where the body lets go and the brain is with alpha waves, the truth can get through, and something shifted.

I found her again. Little Sophinette, on her red bike.

And instead of leaving her in that forest with those words, the shame & the fear, I went back for her, called her up and we rode together, not to prove anything, not to catch up, not to reach any goal. Just riding for fun. With joy. With that particular freedom and exploring vibe children have before the world makes them understand who they're supposed to be.

And then I saw we lifted, above the tree-line, riding over the Forest, like that scene in ET where the bikes breaks free from the ground and everything seems to make sense. And at the end, I saw her - I saw myself - at the top of a hill. Rooted. Fierce. Not running anymore.

That is what reparenting felt like. Not a concept. A real energy work, rewiring, interrupting a nervous system pattern/habit. Since then, I see her all he time, like a new imprint , she's on top of that hill, not down there fearing to be left behind. I even put her on my phone that I can keep anchoring with this vibrant, fierce, courageous, proud, curious energy I now fully embody

What it actually means to choose yourself

Reparenting isn't exactly about going back to fix the past. You can't undo a teacher's thoughtless words, or rewrite what your caregivers could or couldn't give you. They did the best they could with what they had.

But you can become the adult that child needed. You can go back for her, again and again, in every moment that asks you to abandon yourself to keep-up, to be chosen.

Those moments come dressed as many things. Situations where you keep giving when the tank is empty. Work dynamics where you shrink to keep the peace. And yes, romantic connections where the feeling is real, but the dynamic is quietly asking you to contain yourself, to shrink, to participate. Where your heart wants to hold on and your soul is already pointing to the door. Where grief and the right choice arrive at the same time, and you have to let them both be true.

Stepping away from those situations isn't abandonment. It isn't failure. It's the moment you finally step in, for her, for the 7 years old who just needed someone to say: I've got you. You don't have to earn your place here. You were always enough.

That is the protection she needed. That is the reparenting.

She never wanted to stop riding & maybe she still feels she got benched.

Your inner child is still there, maybe she felt defeated, benched, unfit, outcasted, too small, too weak, too fat, rejected. Still wanting to play, be carefree, be experiencing what she was dreaming of. Still hoping someone will finally look at her and mean it when they say: I'm not going anywhere, I see you, I am with you". That someone is you.

And if you're ready to do this work more intentionally, through energy healing, meditation, self-regulation, and real support on the journey, I put together a free guide that's a good place to start: Nurturing Your Inner Child: A Guide to Reparenting for Wellbeing and Intuition. It weaves together the Inner-Child framework with grounding practices, energy work, and tools you can actually use in your daily life and in the moments that trigger you.

And if you feel called to go deeper with personal support, through Reiki, Intuitive readings, or my Clarity Catalyst coaching system, I'm here for that too.

Download the free guide → sophietriollet.com/goodies

Work with me → sophietriollet.com/coaching

With Love & Light, Sophie