The Story Behind ‘My Little Big Secret’

I grew up in a big family where there were always lots of emotions, opinions, and personalities competing for space. Without realising it, I think I learned to suppress my own feelings to make room for everyone else's.

The inspiration for My Little Big Secret came after a period in my life when I was constantly pushing my emotions aside to accommodate others. Eventually, I reached my tipping point, and all the feelings I had been holding in came spilling out at once.

Unfortunately, unlike Naia in the story, I wasn't met with the understanding I needed at that moment. Instead, I was left feeling as though that one experience would define how people saw me, despite the fact that I wasn't acting like myself. It forced me to confront a difficult reality: no matter how hard I tried to be "perfect", one moment of vulnerability seemed capable of overshadowing everything else.

Not long afterwards, during one of my frequent episodes of being lost in thought, I imagined a little girl with a pet dragon who she blamed whenever something went wrong. The idea resonated with me because it reflected exactly how I felt. In that moment, I wanted to believe that something else was responsible for my actions, not me.

At first, it was nothing more than a passing thought. But the idea refused to leave me alone. I kept thinking about how the story would unfold and what would happen next. Before long, scenes were playing out in my head, and parts of the story were practically writing themselves. I started jotting ideas down, and little by little, those notes became a story.

When I eventually finished writing it, I proudly told my younger niece and nephew, who were three and five at the time, that I had written a book and asked if they would like me to read it to them. They enthusiastically said yes. That enthusiasm quickly faded when they immediately interrupted me to ask:

"Where are the pictures?"

When I explained that there weren't any, they lost interest just as quickly as they had gained it. The message was clear: if I wanted their approval, I would need to turn it into a real book. That moment likely planted the first seed that eventually led me towards self-publishing.

On a deeper level, though, this story became a way for me to heal my inner child. The conversation between Naia and her mum towards the end of the story reflects the kind of interaction I wish I had experienced growing up. The kind of conversation that would have helped me understand that I didn't need to present a perfect version of myself all the time, and that difficult emotions didn't make me a bad person. To be clear, in my case, much of this pressure wasn't coming from anyone else. It came from the standards I set for myself and the belief that I always needed to be composed, accommodating, and in control. Over time, expressing difficult emotions began to feel like failure rather than something completely human. 

While I can't change my own childhood experiences, I hope this story will help children who could benefit from learning these messages earlier than I did. More than anything, I wanted My Little Big Secret to encourage conversations between children and the adults who care for them. Conversations about big feelings, emotional wellbeing, and how we can navigate difficult emotions in healthier ways.

One thing I've observed with my nieces and nephew is that they feel everything very deeply. Every emotion is a big deal. Excitement, frustration, sadness, disappointment; whatever they're feeling in that moment seems to take over their entire world. There are countless moments throughout the day when you can see emotions bubbling up inside them until they eventually erupt.

We all started out that way. However, at some point, we learned to contain those big feelings. But I don't believe they ever got smaller. We simply became better at hiding them. For some of us, that comes through healthy self-regulation and learning how to process our emotions. For others, it’s through suppressing them altogether in order to avoid judgement, conflict, or negative consequences.

Without diving too deeply into the nature versus nurture debate, I believe that a large part of where we end up on that spectrum depends on how our emotions were received when we were children. As adults, it's easy to become frustrated by tantrums and emotional outbursts, especially when they seem to happen every hour. It's easy to forget that while we've had decades to practise managing our emotions (and let's be honest, many of us are still figuring it out), children are only just beginning.

Not only are they new to experiencing those feelings, but they often lack the vocabulary and understanding to communicate exactly what's going on inside them. I would probably throw a fit too if my world felt like it was falling apart and I didn't know how to explain it. Perhaps the question isn't simply how we stop children from displaying difficult emotions, but how we help them to express what they are feeling to us. 

What message do we send when we react negatively to them in those moments?

Instead of focusing solely on the behaviour itself, maybe we should spend a little more time trying to understand the deeper message underneath. Because sometimes a tantrum isn't just a tantrum. Sometimes it's a child asking for help in the only way they know how.