Inner child

My inner child is a runt, looks more like a zombie than a human being and bites every chance she gets. She's a little scared animal. If I respond with kindness, she'll just start crying and she cries rivers of sadness, of loneliness and despair.
I considered abandoning my inner child and never looking back. In a cowardly moment, I considered forgetting the abuse voluntarily, yet again, only this time for good. Many times, while talking to people, I find myself being needy, pathetic and miserable, in an effort to make sense out of what happened to me. It's as if I want someone else to confirm the injustice I've lived and validate my sorrow. My inner child, the keeper of these feelings of hate, anger, sorrow, sadness, tries to communicate through me and ask for help. She's barking at the wrong tree. Maybe I should continue therapy, but therapy is not enough for me. It's too organized and I never get to connect with my deeper self during those 45 minutes. Groups are retarded, cause everything I'll say is overly validated. It's like the blind leading the blind and it creates more confusion, than actual healing. Plus, too many women have too many things to say and it's a total downer. If you didn't feel suicidal at the beginning of the group, you'll be feeling suicidal by the end of it.
So, all I got left is this blog, where I can be pathetic, miserable, needy in the safety of my own inner world.
I can't give up on my inner child, she's also the keeper of my creativity and genius ideas. All of those shiny years of pure bliss, when I couldn't feel any other emotion, because my memory locked away any trace of abuse, I could never create. I couldn't write, I couldn't paint, I couldn't act. I must continue this relationship and bring that runt of a child back to health, if I want to keep creating.