When the Love Is for the Real You
It’s a strange feelingto feel more loved and seenin days and weeksthan you have in decades.
Is it because the love is finallyfor the real you—not the personalities crafted carefully,piece by piece,for each room,each relationship,each survival strategy?
Or is it because broken peopleknow what it meansto be brokenand unlovedin ways the wholehearted never have to learn?
Is it because we’ve been through helland learned to look for His gracebefore we ever found His love?
Is it because I stopped wearingthe mask of self-hatred,hardness,shame,fear—
or is it becauseI found some incredible humans?
The People Who Met Me Where I Was
John.The brother from another mother.He showed me more lovein a single conflict we worked through togetherthan I have ever felt from another man.
Respect.Restraint.Compassion.Kindness.
Insights I wasn’t ready to hearuntil I was.
He carried the weight of the worldin his eyeswhen he walked through the door.
It was hard to say goodbye—but I know we’ll meet again,somewhere,someday,somehow.
Rachel.The queer iconwith blue hairand vibrant energyradiating love, leadership, and kindness.
She was one of the firstto make me feel safe.to offer encouragementwithout condition.
A steady sourceof love and light,always.
Rhonda.The fierce auntiewho lost her childand still found the strengthto keep going.
To fight for her health.to fight the systemsthat harm us.
“Corporate shenanigans suck,” she said,“but the care is amazing.I am the healthiest I’ve ever been—and I’m suing the fuck out of themwhen I get out.”
She taught mehow to surrender controlwithout surrendering accountability.How to hold systems responsiblewithout losing myself.
Mama Michelle.Ever-present smile,masking decades of painthat only surfacedwhen it was righteousand for someone else.
She helped me learnwhat kind of man I want to be.What kind of husband.What kind of father.
We recover out loudso others don’t die in silence.
The Ones I Carry With Me
Anna.My sweet baby sister.She has lived moreand survived morethan many do in several lifetimes.
She carries the weight of the world,tries to find the help she needs,and keeps struggling.
I just want to take care of her.
Hallie.The witchy girlwho fought and fought and foughtwhen she didn’t feel safe or in control.
Sometimes she foughtwhat could have helped—because too many thingsnever had.
She foughtuntil she couldn’t fight anymoreand left.
Nicky.My sweet baby trans sister.We lived together.Cooked together.Fed people together.Cleaned.Grew.
Quietly more confidentand groundedthan many twice her age.A better cook than most.
She taught meto be less judgmental,less reactive,more comfortablein my own skin.
Nicholas.The quiet, traumatized manwhose eyes reflect my own—my eyes,a decade ago.
Tired of being tired.Ready for rest.
But unable to restuntil he findsinner peaceand safety.
Frankie.Strong.Fierce.Vulnerable.
Recovering as loudly as possibleso others don’t sufferand diein silence.
Zachary.The sweet boywho couldn’t forgive himselffor his mistakes—the same mistakesI made over a decade ago.
In forgiving him,I forgave myself.
He wrote me a letterthat brought me to tears.
I don’t know if I’ve ever feltas seenor as lovedas I didin his words.
And Then There Is Angela
My most consistent presence here.
Quietly kind.Centered.Silly.Funny.Strong.Brave.
And yes—a little cute.
It’s easy to blur the linesbetween platonic and romantic lovewhen someone has seenthe ugliest parts of your souland still believesyou might make a good dad,a good husband.
She carries the weight of the worldin her mind and on her shoulders.
When the walls come down,the world forces herto sit with the traumawe are both running from—
overdose,grief,loss,regret,unexpressed love,and love expressed so poorlyit looked more like abusethan care.
I know she’s an amazing mombecause she has been one to mewhen I was acting like a childand needed a mother,a friend,someone who loved mewarts and all.
Who knows if it’s just friendship?Who knows if it’s something more?Who knows if she feels the same?
What I do knowis that I find comfort in hermore than anywhere else.
What Heals Us
And I thinkthe beautiful peoplewe find in these walls,in these halls—
when we finally letour walls down—
are what help us recover.
#MightyPoets #CheckInWithMe #MentalHealth #ADHD #PTSD #MightyTogether
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