My Inner Child Healing Project

Amar Duque · 2023

**Technique:** digital illustration
**Year:** 2023
**Series of 16 digital works**
**Author:** Amar Duque

This series was born at a time when I didn’t know how to reach my inner child.
I had read about her; I had searched for her in memories, in therapy, in my journals—yet I still couldn’t feel her alive within me.
Until I found her outside of me —in the gestures, silences, gazes, and innocence of my daughter.
She became my mirror, my bridge, and my teacher. Through her presence, I began to remember my own.

Each illustration was a silent conversation between us.
As I drew her, I was also drawing myself.
As I watched her grow, I healed what in me had been paused.
Digital color allowed me to create a luminous space of repair, where vibrant backgrounds and “impossible” flowers became both refuge and offering.
The phrases that accompany each image are thoughts that crossed me during the process—sometimes they were words she seemed to tell me; sometimes they were whispers from my own inner child.

This project is not only about a girl; it is about two souls who, through art, meet again and recognize themselves as one.

1. Poor little girl

The girl stands at the center of a red circle, surrounded by turquoise, as if the world were watching her from afar. Her shadow stretches behind her: the shadow of abandonment, of “I wasn’t seen.” This is the starting point—the original wound.

Poor little girl

2. I’m so confused

The confusion of an identity coming undone. The open mouth, the surprise, the muffled cry. Behind her, multicolored butterflies—symbols of a soul trying to transform. Chaos before clarity.

I’m so confused

3. No one can see me

Her body blends into a field of red flowers. The girl learns to camouflage herself with her surroundings to survive. It is the scene of emotional hiding—the child who chooses invisibility to avoid being hurt.

No one can see me

4. This is tight for me

The space shrinks; the body tenses. The feeling of not fitting into expectations, family molds, or conditional love. Her gaze asks for air and truth.

This world is tight for me

5. I’m afraid

Fear curls inward. The girl nests among colorful flowers, seeking shelter. Her black hair holds her, yet also encloses her. It is the emotional night before dawn.

I’m afraid

6. Falling

The moment of surrender. Falling not as defeat, but as yielding. Her hair becomes root—thread binding heaven and earth. Flowers uphold her: the fall turns into a slow flight.

Falling

7. My words nourish you

A girl stands, roses sprouting from her hair. Language turns to nourishment. A mother’s words—and the words she learns to tell herself—become living water.

My words are your nourishment

8. Waiting for the change

Stillness among red blooms. The suspended instant before metamorphosis. Waiting grows fertile, like a bud that knows it will soon open.

Waiting for the change

9. Potential

Wings appear. The girl begins to recognize her inner power. She doesn’t fly yet, but feels the possibility pulsing behind her shoulders.

Potential

10. Curious

Seated among blue branches, curiosity returns. Her gaze opens to the world without fear. A bird nearby—a symbol of communication and a free soul. Trust begins to root again.

Curious

11. I’m a cat

Playfulness reemerges. Ears, butterflies, mischief. The body softens; the soul has fun. The inner child no longer fears being seen. Creativity feels safe again.

I’m a cat

12. My own world

An ocean of butterflies envelops her body. This is the rebuilt inner space—a private universe where she no longer needs to hide, but to inhabit herself.

I can create a new world for myself

13. Now I’m free

Standing, luminous, dressed in leaves and fire. Movement returns. The body dances. Freedom settles in as a natural state. The soul recognizes itself as alive.

14. My history

A sequence of figures across different moments of her growth. The emotional timeline: the story of a girl moving through darkness, silence, and blooming.

My history

15. Finally I’m me

Her face rests against a blue ground. She looks at herself with love. She no longer seeks to please—only to exist. Peace after the journey.

Finally I’m me

16. Now I can give you my heart

Her gaze is direct, open, loving. The process culminates: the daughter offers her heart and, in doing so, returns the mother’s own innocence to her.

Now, I can give you may heart

Instagram error.