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“They don’t. Don’t let that shit take over. Look at me.”
I force myself to pull away and look into his eyes. I’m shocked they don’t contain pity. Just empathy. Love.
“You made mistakes. Wealldid. But you’re more than that. Say it.”
“What?”
“Say. It. Say you’re more than that.”
I stare at him for a moment. Dr. Jim said stopping the negative self-talk, separating myself from my mistakes is important. With a deep breath, I try. “I’m more than my mistakes.”
“Again.”
“I’m more than my mistakes.”
“Louder.”
I change it this time, feeling more powerful. “I amnotmy mistakes.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “No, you’re not.”
I push out a breath, feeling better. “Thanks, Brent.”
“I told you, I’m here for you, little brother. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”
I’m not my mistakes. I repeat it again and again internally. I’m ready to heal and stop letting every crappy decision I made define me. I may not have been stronger than all the negativity and self-hate inside me before, but I’m going to be now. I want to learn how to heal and love myself for who I am, even if I’m still learning who that is.
