I am letting that hurt little boy cry. The little boy wept. He cried out for someone to come. He cried out even louder, but still no one came. The boy yelled and wailed because he was hurt. He was left alone. He just wants to play with his best friend but she doesn't want to play with her. He just wants to get her some chicken nuggets and ranch. He just wants to juggle and laugh. The little boy cries out because he's sorry. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it, and now he can't do anything to say he's sorry. His best friend is gone. The little boy is so sorry. He cries because he promised his best forever and he messed it up. He pleads that it's not fair; he didn't mean it, he's sorry. He just wants to be nice and kind and fun. The boy doesn't know why; he just knows she left, and she doesn't want to see him or talk to him. He cries out again, "what do you mean? I'm not bad!?" The little boy knows he made a mistake and he messed up bad. He didn't know it would be this bad. He didn't know. He didn't mean it. He's sorry. He knows now, and it will never, ever, ever happen again. He knows now. And the little boy snaps back into it and say, "Here's the plan: we're gonna play, we're gonna laugh, I'm gonna be kind and nice and sweet and fun. We're gonna have some fun 😉 If I fall down, you'll be there to pick me up. If you need help, I got you, and I'll always be by your side."

I am that little boy. I let him feel and experience without fear and without artificial guardrails. The little boy is free to explore these feelings, and he can experience his tantrum. After I have given him the safe space to feel, I can gently bring us back together. The storm has passed. I was previously unable to hold myself during the storm, and I would try to control the little boy, keeping him locked up, yelling at him and telling him that's weak and he needs to be stronger and shouldn't feel that way. That last sentence feels so wrong to say, but it also happens to be closer to how I treated this little boy. I denied his existence to the world, emotionally abused myself by locking the little boy in the closet anytime there were guests, and actively trying to positive mindset this boy into feeling different when we were alone. I don't do that anymore. The little boy is here for the world to see and connect with.

This brings me to our final short story of the day. The story is about being seen. I took the little boy to get chicken and a milkshake. In the drive-thru, I was struck by a wave of emotion and the little boy needed to feel. It was the chicken nuggets that did the trick. He wanted to get his best friend some nuggets and ranch because that was her favorite. The employee at the window noticed my face straight away, and he said "oh, hey, I can see you're having a tough day. This meal's on me. I hope your day gets better." I burst into tears and could barely say thank you. This man was kind and compassionate, and he saw my struggle, recognized it as the human struggle and understood what it was like being human and having a human experience. Learning how to let the boy cry.