When I still knew how to be a child

I don’t remember exactly when I stopped being a child.

I remember some things, but I don’t know if it was then.

I remember when I started saying,
“I’ll play later,”
and later never came.

When I got a new box of colored pencils
and, instead of drawing,
I started saving them so I wouldn’t waste them.

When someone asked if I was crying
and I said it was nothing.

I didn’t even know what that “nothing” was.

I remember learning not to ask to sleep in someone else’s bed
when I was afraid.

Learning to close my bedroom door
and figure things out on my own.

Thinking twice before saying,
“I didn’t like that,”
“I’m sad,”
“Stay with me.”

Maybe that was it.

Or maybe it happened before.

Maybe it was the first time someone told me,
“You’re too old for that now.”

And I believed them.

Because children believe these things.

They believe it when they’re told they’re too old for being held,
too old for crying,
too old to be afraid of the dark.

And, without noticing,
I became too old for so many things
that still made me feel good.

Today, I know how to do things
the boy I used to be
could never have imagined.

I know how to meet deadlines.
I know how to answer “How are you?”
with “I’m fine” even when I’m not.
I know how to lie awake thinking about a conversation
that ended three hours ago.
I know how to turn exhaustion into
“I just need to manage my time better.”

I know how to be an adult.

I just don’t know exactly
when that became synonymous
with needing less care.

That’s why I decided to ask children.

Not what they think mental health is.

That would be asking them to explain
something we, as adults,
spend years trying to understand.

I asked them something simpler:

“What makes you feel good?”

And maybe it’s strange
that I asked them that.

Because I thought I was looking for answers
to write about children.

But they ended up reminding me of myself.

“I like when my mom sits with me on the couch, even when she’s on her phone.”

“When my dad comes home and really asks me how my day was.”

“When I can play without having to look at the time.”

“When my friend saves a seat for me.”

“When I make a drawing and my teacher puts it on the wall.”

“When I’m sad and my grandma doesn’t keep asking what I did.”

“When I can sleep in my mom’s bed.”

“When nobody gets mad at me for crying.”

“When I laugh so much that my stomach starts hurting.”

I thought about those answers for a while.

Because none of them talked about being better.

None of them talked about keeping up.

No child said,
“I feel good when I can handle everything by myself.”

They talked about being held.

About company.

About having someone stay.

About being able to play without watching the clock.

About being heard without having to find
the right words to explain how they feel.

And I thought about how many times, after growing up,
I started doing the exact opposite.

When I’m sad, I hide.

When I’m tired, I keep going.

When I need someone, I wonder
if I’m being a burden.

When something makes me happy,
sometimes I still wonder if I should be doing
something more important instead.

Maybe that’s what scares me.

I didn’t stop being a child all at once.

I left him behind little by little.

A “don’t cry” here.

A “you’re too old for that” there.

A “swallow it.”

A “don’t be dramatic.”

Until one day,
I knew how to take care of everyone
and had forgotten how to ask someone
to take care of me.

Now, when I think about the boy I used to be,
I don’t want to go back in time.

I just wish I could meet him for five minutes.

Ask him if he’s okay.

Ask him what he’s afraid of.

Ask him what he wants to do today.

And, most of all,
not tell him that he’s too old anymore.

Because maybe I had it wrong.

Maybe growing up was never about
stopping myself from needing the things that made me feel good.

Maybe growing up was about learning
how to recognize them again.

And if I could tell that boy anything now,
I think it would be simple.

You don’t have to stop crying to grow up.

You don’t have to learn how to do everything alone.

You don’t have to pretend you’re okay
just because no one asked twice.

And when something makes you feel good,
don’t be ashamed to say so.

It took me years to remember that.

But you already knew.

When I Still Knew How to Be a Child.

Juntô Recommends

Film “Uptown Girls” (2003)
Dir.: Boaz Yakin

The film follows Molly Gunn, a young woman who, after losing her father and needing to learn to cope with adult life, ends up working as a babysitter for Ray, an eight-year-old girl who is much more mature than she appears. The relationship between the two gradually reveals that growing up doesn’t necessarily mean leaving childhood behind, and that sometimes it is children who remind us of things that we, as adults, have forgotten.

Uptown Girls engages with the idea that growing up can distance us from important parts of who we were, but it also shows how childhood can continue to exist within us. It’s a story about affection, maturation, and learning that needing others is not a weakness.