I have PTSD. I have medical problems. It took me a long time to recognize the important word there was HAVE.
These are problems I HAVE. They are not problems that I AM.
I AM smart.
I AM strong.
I AM resilient.
I AM determined.
I AM compassionate.
I AM the sum of my words and my choices; I am the dreams I hold to and the stories I share. I am the poetry I write; I am the thunderstorms in the evening, the breeze on my cheeks in the morning. I am the memory of starlight on the ocean, rippling on the waves as it dips from unknown heights to unseen and unimagined depths. I am the tree’s seed, before it explodes through dirt and pierces toward sky; I am the blooming flower, beckoning butterflies with fragrance, and beauty, and potential. I am the butterfly, fluttering on wind, seemingly delicate but strong beyond imagining.
I am not what I have. I am what I am.