Realizing How Human I Am

I’m starting to realize just how human I am — and this entry feels like one of the most vulnerable things I’ve ever put into words. These are thoughts I usually only share with one or two people in my life, the people I feel deeply safe with. But lately, things from my past have been coming up, along with the ways I’ve been living in the future, and it’s forcing me to face some truths about myself.

When you start dating someone, old patterns and buried memories surface. That’s been happening to me. I’ve been reflecting on the mistakes I’ve made, and especially the ways I’ve lied in the past — sometimes right to people’s faces. I used to think it was just people-pleasing, but I’m finally understanding that it was also avoidance. I lied because I was scared. Scared to tell the truth, scared of disappointing people, scared of being seen as less than. Avoidance felt easier than honesty.

And now, I’m paying for some of that. There are people in my life — friends, family, coworkers — who see me as this loving, positive, joyful person. And I am that in many ways. But they don’t know everything about me. They don’t know the parts of me I’ve kept hidden. Maybe it’s a Virgo thing, or maybe it’s just being human. But I’m realizing that all these flaws and mistakes I’ve made… they’re not proof that I’m broken. They’re lessons. They’re mirrors. They’re reminders that I’m growing, and that I’m allowed to be imperfect.

If I’m learning, evolving, expanding beyond what I once knew, then I’m doing what I’m supposed to. Whether that growth happens at 18, 23, or now at 31, I’m grateful it’s happening at all.

I’m also grateful to have people who love me, truly love me, through all of this. I’m dating someone right now who has seen the beautiful parts of me, the flawed parts, and some of the trauma that has spilled out in ways I didn’t intend. I’ve hurt her at times because of my past, but the way she continues to show up, support me, and love me means everything. And it makes me want to show up better too — to protect the people I love, to stand up for them, and to hold myself accountable for my own shit.

I know I’m not perfect. I never will be. I will always make mistakes. I just don’t want to make the same ones. And if I’m making new mistakes because I’m stepping into new spaces, new conversations, new experiences — then that’s part of growth. I want to push myself to be better for the people I love and for myself.

Therapy has helped me face who I’ve been. It forced me to look back at my childhood — how I was raised, the city I grew up in, the schools I went to, the generational patterns I inherited. I’ve shed so much because of that inner work. I’ve learned that I was an angry kid. I was second-born, always comparing myself to my brother, who got attention and recognition I didn’t know how to ask for. I reacted in the only ways I knew how — crying, yelling, fighting, acting out. I wasn’t just angry; I was scared. I wanted to be seen.

Growing up in Sacramento, my head was always on a swivel. I was fighting because I didn’t know how else to protect myself. I grew up with my father not being around in many ways, with no real model for emotional safety. And in the environments I was in, I couldn’t look soft in front of the homies. I couldn’t be honest about how scared I was. That’s a heavy thing for a kid to carry.

Sports were one of the first places I felt real camaraderie — football especially. That feeling of having brothers who had my back made a difference. And later, having younger siblings gave me a chance to show the love and protection I wished I had received. Being a big brother, being a protector, being nurturing — those things healed parts of me I didn’t even realize were wounded.

But still, so much of my childhood was about survival. I dealt with bullying, racism, loneliness, fear, and not feeling heard. And I think that’s why I developed this pattern of fighting, reacting, defending myself. It was all I had.

Yet even through all of that, there were people who saw my heart. They knew my essence. They knew I loved deeply — even if that love was wrapped in anger and fear. And I think that’s why, today, I’m finally understanding that I’m human. I have messed up. I have hurt people. I have lied. I have avoided. But I can own that. I can grow from that. I can move differently now.

I’m done with people-pleasing.
I’m done lying to protect an image of myself.
I’m done putting myself last.
I’m done hiding.

Right now, I’m choosing gratitude — for who I am, for where I am, and for the people who have stayed by my side. I’m grateful for this relationship I’m in, for the lessons it’s teaching me, and for the love that exists between us. She has seen me in so many different lights and has still chosen to stay. That means something deep. And I want to show up for her just as much as she shows up for me.

Through all of this — the relationships, friendships, therapy, conversations, and mistakes — I’m learning more about who I am and who I want to be. Working with high schoolers every day reminds me that we all walk through life with scars. We all carry pain, love, loss, and hope. And yet we keep growing. Even when our soil is disturbed, we can still bloom.

I want to be the best version of myself — not for perfection, but for peace. I want to show up with love, contentment, and stillness. I want to rise above the things that once broke me.

And as I move forward I am realizing just how human I am. I will continue this journey of learning, unlearning, and relearning.