I had to learn how to control myself — not just my words in a supermarket, not just my tone walking down the street, but the storms inside me that nobody else could see.

When I was young, I was sad without knowing why. Life kept happening to me, and I didn’t have the language to ask what was going on.

Speech class. Therapy rooms. Counselors telling me to “regulate my emotions.”

And I remember thinking: Why am I here? Who are these people? Why do they think they know my heart?

I knew I was sad — but I was working through it. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

As I got older, I started studying myself — my reactions, my tone, the way certain people made me feel when they came into my life or walked out of it.

That’s when I learned the difference between coincidence and pattern recognition.

People repeat themselves. Same behavior, different disguise. Same wound, different season. Same lesson, different teacher.

Once you’ve lived enough cycles, you stop calling it coincidence. You start calling it what it is — a pattern.

Regaining control over my emotions was hell. But I always knew I’d get through it. Hard work. Determination. Faith.

I learned not everyone will treat me right. Not everyone will like me. Not everyone will be kind. But that never changed how I treated them.

If I had a dollar, or the shirt off my back, I’d give it — even knowing some would steal from me, stab me in the back, or talk behind it.

I knew the risk. I walked through seasons full of them.

Did I get angry? Absolutely. But I learned to let it go, to give it no mind, to sit alone with God until everything felt clear again.

I don’t want crowds anymore. Did when I was younger — not now. Don’t need them. Don’t want them.

I’m emotionally regulated. I feel sadness. I feel joy. I like companionship — just not the clingy kind. I want people to be themselves, and I want to be myself too.

People thought they had me figured out. They didn’t. I never showed them who I really was.

And if they saw the real me — the quiet me, the reflective me — they might think I’m a loser.

But they can think whatever they want. I don’t need their validation. I already got mine from God.

I’m not here for likes or shares. I’m here to help build others up — because if it wasn’t for God, I wouldn’t be here at all.

Make fun of me if you want. It doesn’t matter. If I don’t want you in my life, you won’t be. And if you try to force your way in, you’ll be removed.

My focus now is on better things — on joy, on peace, on being a good father to my daughters.

I’m not perfect. I’ve got flaws — more cracks than a driveway poured in 1970. But I’m still learning, still growing, still trying to be better.

I learned to speak to people with respect. Everyone gets it until they earn the right not to. And even then, I respect them as a person — I just won’t deal with them.

Emotional regulation means when heartbreak hits, you can say: I know why this is happening. I know I’ll get through it. I need to process it, release it, and move on.

The danger is getting stuck in the process — holding it, carrying it, never letting it go. That’s what breaks people.

I don’t beat myself up over my past. I’ve made mistakes — plenty. But I let them go. And when I can make things right, I do.

The real work is learning yourself. Loving yourself. Looking in the mirror and saying: Yeah, you messed up — but that doesn’t define you. You’re worth loving.

Even if you’re at the beginning and all you feel is self‑hate — don’t stay there. You’re worth more than that.

Life is a struggle because life is a teacher. And what we do with the lessons is what shapes us.

I’m still learning — because the moment you stop learning is the moment you stop growing.

Even one small step today that you didn’t take yesterday is progress.

Move forward. Choose the right direction. Trust God. His love is unconditional.

written by. Kristofer Krumholtz

 

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18