Healing the Inner Child by Coming Home to the Night

I didn’t plan to become a night owl again.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just… happened. One night I was up until 4am and couldn’t explain why. The next night, the same. Then the next. And instead of fighting it, I let it happen. I adapted. And somewhere in that quiet, late-night space, I started to reflect.

And what I realized?

The night has always been home for me.

Growing up, the night was my safe space. It was the only time the house was quiet. The only time no one was yelling, pushing, demanding, judging. When the world slept, I breathed. I found comfort in silence. In stars. In screens glowing in dark rooms and music playing just loud enough to drown out the thoughts.

But mornings? Mornings were hell.

Forced to wake up way too early before school, not because I needed to—but because someone else decided I should. That routine never made sense to me. Even after years of working the same early hours, mornings always felt like a punishment. Like a forced performance. Like something I was never built for.

And maybe that’s because I wasn’t.

Now, with no one hovering, no one telling me when to wake, when to move, when to matter—I’ve returned to the night. And suddenly, I can breathe again.

I write blogs.
I finish projects.
I game.
I watch anime.
Sometimes I even read.
All things that feel impossible during the day.

Why? Because I was conditioned to believe the day wasn’t for pleasure. The day was for proving something. For working, grinding, checking boxes. Play was earned. Fun was suspicious. Joy during daylight hours? Unacceptable.

But the night didn’t ask me for anything.

The night never judged me.
The night didn’t need performance.
It just let me be.

And so, I’m healing. Slowly. Quietly.
By reclaiming the part of me that was always there.
The kid who stayed up too late because it was the only time they felt okay.
The teen who found peace in the glow of a monitor at 2am.
The adult who still works best when the world has shut up and shut down.

Night is my sanctuary.
Always has been.
And now? It gets to be my choice.

I’m still adjusting. Still finding the balance.
But for the first time in a long time, it feels like I’m honoring the parts of myself that were pushed aside to survive.

And in doing so—I’m healing the inner child who stayed quiet for way too long.