Come here.
No, for real.
Come sit in front of this mirror with me.
I want you to look at yourself.
Not at your hair.
Not at what you're wearing.
Not at whatever little thing you're about to point out
because you're uncomfortable with me staring at you.
Look at you.
What do you see?
And before you answer,
I already know you're probably going to mention
something you wish was different.
Something you should've done better.
Something you haven't figured out yet.
Something that didn't work.
Somebody who disappointed you.
Some version of yourself you think you should be by now.
Not today.
Today, we're not using this mirror to find something wrong with you.
We're going to tell the truth.
So look again.
Who do you see?
Because I see a woman who has been having a hard time
without allowing it to make her hard.
And that means something to me.
I see somebody tired, but still trying.
Disappointed, but still capable of believing.
I see somebody who has had enough reasons to stop expecting good things
and somehow, there is still good in her.
Your heart is still pointed in the right direction.
Life might not be right now.
But you are.
And tough times? They're temporary.
They have an expiration date.
But that heart of yours,
the one that still cares, still loves,
still wants something real
even after life gave you every reason to question it?
Protect that.
I will too.
Now look at yourself again.
And this time, I want you to hear me
without arguing with me in your head.
You are beautiful.
And I'm not saying that because I'm dating you.
I'm dating you because I looked past beautiful
and found somebody I actually want to know.
There's a difference.
You are worthy of being loved correctly.
Not almost. Not when it's convenient.
Not in pieces.
Not with you constantly wondering where you stand.
You deserve a love that doesn't make you audition
for the position you already hold.
And I know you doubt love.
I know part of you wonders
if anybody could ever love you the way you need to be loved.
Maybe life taught you to keep one hand on the door.
Maybe people made promises their actions couldn't pronounce.
Maybe you learned that getting excited about something
was sometimes the quickest way to end up disappointed.
I understand.
So I'm not asking you to forget everything you've been through.
I'm asking you to stop making your past
the fortune teller for your future.
It doesn't get to decide what happens here.
Neither does fear.
Neither does that little voice that starts talking crazy
when things aren't going your way.
We're not feeding that anymore.
From today forward,
I need you speaking life over yourself.
And when you forget how, come find me.
I'll remind you.
Because I see you.
Not the version of you that has everything together.
You.
The woman who gets quiet sometimes.
The woman who overthinks.
The woman who can be strong all day
and still need somewhere soft to land at night.
You can land here.
I'm not going to make you feel weak for needing reassurance.
I'm not going to act annoyed because you need to hear that you matter.
You do.
And I'll say it until the part of you that doubts it
gets tired of arguing with me.
My mother taught me that.
I watched her endure things a woman should never have had to
become strong enough to survive.
And growing up, she drilled something into me
that I understand differently now.
Be soft with the woman you choose to love.
Not weak. Soft.
Know the difference.
Watch your words with her.
Pay attention to what hurts her.
Don't use her vulnerable places as weapons when you're angry.
Make sure she knows she doesn't have to be in survival mode
inside the same place she calls home.
I never forgot that.
So when I'm soft with you,
understand where that comes from.
It isn't game.
It isn't me trying to win you over.
It's intentional.
I know the world will handle you without asking permission.
I refuse to.
I want you to know there is at least one place
where you don't have to brace yourself.
Here.
With me.
Take the armor off.
Put your phone down.
Stop thinking about tomorrow for five minutes.
Stop replaying yesterday.
Look in this mirror with me.
Look at us.
You see yourself.
I see my everything.
And I know, that's a dangerous word to give somebody.
Everything.
But I'm not saying you're my entire life.
I had a life before you.
So did you.
I'm saying when I look at you,
I see everything I've been asking love to feel like.
Peace. Attraction. Friendship.
Desire. Comfort. Laughter.
A little attitude I'm learning to deal with.
A woman I can be serious with
and stupid with five minutes later.
Somebody I can admire without putting on an act.
Somebody I want beside me when things are good,
but more importantly,
somebody I don't feel the need to run from when things aren't.
That's what I mean when I call you my everything.
And about this pedestal…
Get comfortable.
I put you there on purpose.
I'm not putting you up there because I think you're perfect.
I'm putting you there because you're my woman,
and I believe the woman beside me
should never have to question how highly I regard her.
There's no plan to remove you.
You don't lose your place because you had a bad day.
You don't lose it because life got messy.
You don't lose it because you got emotional.
You don't lose it because we disagree.
You don't lose it because you're still healing
from things that happened before I got here.
Love shouldn't feel like your position is always up for review.
So stop looking over your shoulder.
There is no competition.
No imaginary woman you need to outperform.
No one waiting in line for your spot.
It's yours.
You are the one.
And the only one.
Now say something good about yourself.
Go ahead.
I'll wait.
…
See? That shouldn't be so difficult.
So until it becomes easier, we'll practice.
I'll start.
You are worth showing up for.
You are worth being patient with.
You are worth listening to.
You are worth choosing on days when you feel easy to love
and days when you don't.
You are intelligent.
You are desirable.
You are enough without proving anything.
You are allowed to have bad days without calling it a bad life.
You are allowed to start over.
You are allowed to expect something beautiful
after experiencing something painful.
You are allowed to be loved without wondering
what it's going to cost you later.
And baby…
You are allowed to believe me.
I'm not asking you to predict forever.
I'm asking you to be here.
Today.
With me.
Let tomorrow meet us when it gets here.
Because today, I choose you.
Tomorrow, if God gives it to me,
I plan on waking up and making that choice again.
Not because love is some perfect thing.
But because I believe the best kind of love
is two people continuously deciding,
I still want you here.
And I want you here.
Happy. Sad. Winning. Figuring it out.
Dressed up. Hair wrapped.
Confident. Insecure.
Talking too much. Not saying enough.
Come here anyway.
You don't have to perform before you enter this space.
This is your safe place.
This is where you can tell the truth.
This is where you can cry without me trying to rush you out of it.
Where you can dream out loud without me laughing at the size of it.
Where you can admit you're scared.
Where you can say, "I don't know what I'm doing,"
and hear, Okay. We'll figure it out.
That's what I want to be for you.
Not another problem you have to recover from.
Not another lesson.
Not another reason you stop believing people when they say they love you.
Home.
And home isn't always a house.
Sometimes home is a person
who finally lets your nervous system rest.
Someone whose presence says,
you can put your bags down now.
So put them down.
All of them.
The disappointment.
The old conversations.
The people who mishandled you.
The things that didn't work.
The fear that this won't either.
Put it down.
You don't have to carry everything that happened to you
into everything that's trying to happen for you.
Look at yourself one more time.
Really look.
That woman in the mirror?
She has no idea how much life still has waiting for her.
How many times she's still going to laugh until her stomach hurts.
How many places she hasn't seen.
How many prayers are still making their way to her.
How many ordinary mornings are going to become memories
she wishes she could live twice.
She thinks she's behind.
She isn't.
She thinks things are falling apart.
Maybe some things are finally falling out of the way.
She thinks love forgot her.
It didn't.
Because I'm standing right here.
Looking into the same mirror.
Looking at the same woman.
And while you're trying to figure out
what I could possibly see…
I'm wondering how you don't see it yet.
But that's okay.
Until you do, borrow my eyes.
See yourself through me for a little while.
See the woman I'm proud to have beside me.
The woman I want to protect without controlling.
Support without changing.
Love without making her earn it.
And when life gets heavy again,
because sometimes it will,
come back to this mirror.
Ask yourself the same question.
What do you see?
And if that old voice tries to answer first,
call me.
I'll stand behind you,
wrap my arms around you,
look at you through that same glass,
and remind you.
You matter.
You are wanted.
You are chosen.
You are loved.
You are not too much.
You do not have to shrink to make love stay.
You don't have to be afraid of being happy.
And whatever is going wrong right now
does not get to convince you
that your whole life is going wrong.
This chapter doesn't get to name the whole book.
So lift your head.
Look at that woman.
There she is.
My woman.
My peace.
My soft place.
My favorite face to find in a room.
My reminder that sometimes life can put something beautiful in your hands
after convincing you it had nothing left to give.
And if you still need an answer
to the question I asked you when we first sat down…
Who do you see?
Look again.
Because when I look into this mirror,
I see you.
And standing beside you,
I see home.