Ryan stared at me; the word “love” was such a hard word for him to hear. He could say it, but when it came to hearing it about himself, he’s afraid to believe the truth init.
“What does this makeme?”
I knew he was referring to labels, and I despised labels. His parents did a number on his mind since he had been a small child, and he was taught that there was only one acceptable way to love. It would take some time for him to truly get passed it, but I would help him getthere.
“It makes you an incredible young man. You’re loved by someone who has your best interest at heart, and will take any steps necessary to make sure your needs aremet.”
He nodded and looked down at his plate again. Now it was time for me to tackle the self-esteem topic withhim.
“Look at me, Ryan.” His eyes quickly came up to meet mine. “We’re going to work on some self-esteem more intensely. Every morning when you wake and before your feet hit the floor, you are to text me with one thing that you like aboutyourself.”
He looked at me with a shocked expression and insisted that he likedhimself.
“Humor me then,Ryan.”
“Okay. I’ll text you something eachmorning.”
“Goodboy.”
His eyes lit up. God, he was so unaware of what he did tome.
“Now, before you go to bed each night, I want a text of one thing that was good about yourday.”
“Anything?”
“Anything that made you happy or had a positive impact onyou.”
“Okay, I will dothat.”
So far, so good. I had been pleased those two things had gone well. The next, might not be thateasy.
“Good, there’s more. Follow me,” I said andstood.
Ryan followed me into the house, and before we went down the hall, I picked up the t-shirt from the kitchen island. It was important for him to see that I felt he had done a fine job with washing the shirt, especially since he had been so nervous over it. When we neared the playroom, he slowed and stopped. I kept going until I reached my bedroom and then turned to look athim.
“Ryan—”
“I, I don’t belong in there.” He looked into the playroom and then back to me. “Don’t you just want to keep it all in yourplayroom?”
Myboy.
I walked to him and gripped hisshoulders.
“No, Ryan. I don’t. What you and I share is special and it’s not based on what takes place inthere.”
He started to look down but caught himself and his eyes focused on my chest. This was acceptable to me. He knew that I didn’t want him looking at the floor. He was not a slave and we were not in a Master/slave relationship. As long as his eyes stayed on my chest, then I knew he needed a few moments to gather himself and regroup. I would always give him that leeway because there was so much re-wiring that I had to workon.
Ryan was coming to terms very fast with the fact that he was worthy of being in my bedroom and deserving of love. I hadn’t planned on this walk being so emotional forhim.
“But, but I’m not good at the otherstuff.”
“What other stuff,Ryan?”
His eyes moved up to my eyes and then back down to my chest.Take your time, my boy. I’ve got all day foryou.
“Love…stuff.” His eyes stayed on mine for a few seconds before he focused on my chest. “I’m not good at it.” Both of Ryan’s hands went to his stomach. I glanced down and could see that his hands clutched his t-shirt. “They…they always leave. It’s because I’m bad at thatstuff.”
“Ryan,” I said his name, but his eyes remained focused on mychest.
