The Things We Didn't Share
Our childhood treasures don’t age—they wait.
Iris and Jonah – Part One
“I heard a beautiful song playing in a café the other day,” Iris said. “The lyrics really moved me. I found it on Spotify and sent it to a couple of my friends. Then suddenly, it hit me—I hadn’t even thought to send it to Jonah.”
She paused.
“I always complain that he doesn’t fully see me,” she continued, “but how can he see me if I don’t share with him what touches me? What stops me from sharing? What if he dismisses the song? Will it then make me more resentful and our relationship even more distant?”
This tender moment of realization is the heart of this story—and perhaps of many relationships. We want to be known, but we don’t always show ourselves. Sometimes, the things we long to share the most are the things we learned early on in our childhood to hide.
Two Kinds of Our Childhood Treasures
There’s a quiet kind of magic in the memories of childhood—those fleeting moments of pure presence, of deep curiosity, of laughter that made our bellies ache. Hidden within these moments are secret gems—treasures that, when unearthed, can enrich our adult lives in surprising ways.
These gems fall into two distinct, but equally powerful, categories. One shines brightly and is easier to recognize. The other hides in shadow, waiting patiently to be discovered.
The First Treasure: What Made You Come Alive
Think back to your younger self. What did you love doing so much that time would vanish?
Maybe it was building imaginary kingdoms in the backyard, dancing in your room when no one was watching, making up stories with your stuffed animals, or spending hours drawing, climbing trees, tinkering, exploring. These weren’t just hobbies; they were portals into your essential aliveness. In those moments, you weren’t performing—you were being.
As adults, we often forget these pieces of ourselves. We get busy. We become responsible. But those early passions are more than nostalgia—they are blueprints. They tell us something essential about who we are and what lights us up from within.
Try asking yourself:
What kind of play did I love the most as a child?
When did I feel most free, most me?
What did I do that made the world fall away?
Reconnect with those activities, even in small ways. You might find that adult joy doesn't always need to be invented—it can be re-collected.
The Second Treasure: What You Had to Hide
The second kind of childhood treasure is more hidden—and often more powerful. It’s not about what you loved, but what you couldn’t show. These are the parts of you that didn’t feel safe to express. The tender truths. The vulnerable emotions. The interests or friendships or dreams that you kept secret because you sensed they wouldn’t be welcome.
Maybe you had to tuck your tears away because no one knew what to do with them. Or you downplayed your joy, your curiosity, your sensitivity, your boldness, because it wasn’t what your family or community valued. You may have learned to keep the most important parts of yourself quiet—not because they were wrong, but because they were misunderstood or ignored.
These hidden parts don’t disappear. They go underground, shaping how we show up in our adult relationships. If you weren’t allowed to share your deep feelings as a child, you might now struggle to open up emotionally to your partner. If your childhood friendships had to be kept secret, you might find yourself unconsciously “hiding” your friends from your partner in your adult life.
Here’s the powerful truth: the act of hiding becomes a pattern. We internalize it. And unless we gently unearth and examine it, we repeat it—over and over—without even realizing why.
But once we remember what we had to hide, we have a choice.
We can ask:
What parts of me did I learn to keep hidden in childhood?
Do I still hide those parts today, especially in close relationships?
What might it feel like to bring those parts back into the light?
Iris and Jonah – Part Two
Iris took a risk and forwarded the song to Jonah.
He answered: “Cool.”
He obviously wasn’t as touched by the song as she was. But Iris still felt something new—a quiet joy. She had let herself be seen. She had broken the pattern of hiding, just a little. And that made her feel closer, not further apart.
Sometimes, reclaiming our childhood treasures isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about choosing to share one tender thing—and watching what grows from there.
An Invitation
Take a quiet moment this week to sit with your younger self. Not the polished adult version of you, but the child who loved, feared, played, and wondered.
Ask:
What lit me up back then?
What did I instinctively hide to feel safe?
Then, choose one small gem—one moment of joy or one long-hidden part of you—and gently bring it into your life today. Maybe it’s a song you share, a dance you allow yourself to do in your kitchen, a feeling you let someone witness.
You don’t need to dig up everything at once. Just one gem at a time.
That’s how we become whole again. That’s how we come home to ourselves. That’s how we let our partner know us more intimately, as true intimacy begins when we dare to unhide what once made us feel too much, too weird, or too tender.
