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The Phases of Love

We all in our school must have studied the phases of the moon, at least once. Of course we did. At that age, I didn’t give much thought beyond learning what was taught just to pass exams. The moon was merely another chapter in the textbook, and I forgot about it later (hehe). As the summers passed, I gradually began to understand the phases of the moon in a way most people might not. Who doesn’t like to look at the clear sky at night? Stare at the stars until you forget the count? Or draw imaginary characters by mapping them together? I was that kid. I am that kid, actually. Even now, I look at the sky as if one day it might disappear and I would lose the opportunity to connect with my soulmate. Someone once told me that if you look at the night sky and think about your loved one, they, too, are thinking about you. (i forgot who told me this, but thanks for feeding my delusions. I shall find you one day threat )  I cannot help but think about how love can be simply seen in every po...

The Inner Child and the Philosopher: A Psychological Path to Healing Through Thought



Sometimes I think healing doesn’t begin with medicine or mantras—it begins with thought. Quiet, persistent thought. The kind that lingers in the background of your mind, nudging you to ask, “Why did that moment stay with me? Why does it still ache?”

Psychology teaches us about inner child—a concept that refers to the unconscious part of ourselves formed by our earliest emotional experiences. This child carries our unmet needs, our core wounds, our innocent hopes and fears. And as we grow older, we often bury these fragments beneath adult roles, logic, or performance. But they don’t disappear. They linger. And often, they ache silently until we finally turn inward and listen. 

This is where the philosopher steps in—not the cold, detached thinker, but the part of us that reflects deeply, that seeks understanding in chaos. The philosopher within us becomes the one who gently holds the inner child’s hand and begins to ask the right questions—not to intellectualize the pain, but to witness it. The inner child remembers the rejection, the abandonment, the unspoken longings. And the adultwho now studies, questions, overthinks—often become the philosopher trying to protect that child through logic. But what if logic could do more than protect? What if it could heal? 

From a psychological lens, especially in approaches like Inner Child Work and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), healing involves identifying the core beliefs we unconsciously adopted during moments of distress: “I’m not enough,” “I’m a burden,” “I must earn love.”  Through conscious thought—reflection, reframing, dialogue—we begin to dismantle these beliefs, slowly replacing them with truth, with compassion, with clarity.

Healing, then becomes this strange dialogue—between the child who felt too much and the thinker who finally has the words. Between the raw memory and the reasoned insight. And in that space, something softens. We stop over-intellectualizing our wounds, and instead, we think through them with kindness. We dont dismiss emotion—we give it structure, shape, a place to land. 

So, the inner child and the philosopher aren’t opposites—they’re partners in the healing process. The child remembers; the philosopher reflects. The child feels; the philosopher asks, “What does this mean, and how do we move forward?”  In this way, thought becomes more than just analysis—it becomes a way of honoring pain, of reparenting the wounded parts of ourselves, of reclaiming a narrative we didn’t know we were allowed to rewrite.

Healing through thought is real but only when those thoughts are kind, intentional, and rooted in emotional truth. Only when the philosopher within us chooses not to escape pain, but to sit beside it and say, “Let’s understand this together.”

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