The 10 year old in his 40s
It’s surprisingly easy to forget that I’m carrying more than one version of myself. Most days, I move through the world as a hustling 41-year-old: managing responsibilities, making decisions, solving problems, and trying to keep things moving forward. I’m proud of that and fully embrace that. But every now and then, I’m reminded that the 41-year-old version of me is still inseparable from the 10-year-old version of me. He didn’t go anywhere. He’s just not always in focus - cuz duh, “I’ve got shit to do!”
As humans, we tend to give our attention to the version of ourselves that feels most useful in the moment. The adult gets the spotlight because he’s efficient, capable, and knows how to navigate the world. The child fades into the background - not because he’s gone, but because we stop checking in with him. And when that happens, something subtle shifts. Life can become more controlled, more deliberate, and a little too serious.
For actors, that shift matters. Acting doesn’t benefit from constant management or overthinking. It thrives when imagination, instinct, and emotional availability are allowed into the room. The inner child holds those qualities naturally. He knows how to play without needing a result. He responds before he explains. He stays open longer than the adult often allows himself to.
I notice that when I bring that younger part of myself into clearer focus - even briefly - my work changes. I listen more. I react more honestly. The work feels less constructed and more discovered. It’s not about being childish; it’s about being unguarded. The adult in me provides structure and safety, but the child provides movement.
Carrying your inner child doesn’t require dramatic self-exploration or constant introspection. Sometimes it’s as simple as letting curiosity lead for a moment. Asking a softer question. Allowing an impulse to land before evaluating it. Remembering what first made you want to do this work at all.
The 10-year-old version of me doesn’t need to run the show. But he deserves a seat at the table. When I let him into focus - when I remember that he’s still here - the work feels fuller, and life feels more dimensional. Not because I’ve gone backward, but because I’ve allowed more of myself to be present at once. And not for nothing, sometimes I deserve to just kick back and watch Rugrats, Sister Sister and Clarissa Explains It All like I did as a teen!
Keep up the great work!
Mark :)
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