Page 201 of Becoming Us

But now, the volume wasn’t always at a hundred. And on the good days, I could even ask it to quiet down—and it listened. Like I had some kind of magic in me after all.

“I feel like I’m finally starting to trust myself again. A little,” I said.

“How so?”

I stared out the window, then looked back at him. “The people around me…they want to be there.”

Samuel waited, letting the silence stretch until I found the rest.

“They wantme. That’s such a weird thing to think. I spent so much time believing it wasn’t me anybody liked—it was the version I faked. And I’m starting to find things I like about myself too. Things I’m proud of.”

I exhaled, hands fidgeting in my lap. “I know I’m not supposed to tie my worth to what Ido. And I don’t—at least, not like I used to. But I’m seeing how the things I do can help people. That feels important. Like with Atty and his mom. I helped him sort out his savings, taught him about investing. That’s already making a difference. I did that.

“And then there’s Holly and her internship. Some of that stuff from back in the day stuck. I still had contacts, still remembered things—procedures, people. It wasn’t just something I studied. I figured it out. Iknowthings.

“And yesterday, Ezra was having a hard time. I talked to him. Told him some of what I’ve been through with the pills, with drugs, with not wanting to be here anymore. About finding recovery. And Iknewwhat to say. Because I lived it. And I’m still here. That has to count for something, right?”

Samuel nodded, his expression soft. His eyes carried something warm in them.

“And now I’m thinking that maybe—even though I fucked up—maybe I learned too. And I get to be the version of myself who grew from all of that. That’s a really good thing. Standing on the other side of it, knowing I crawled my way out. And maybe I feel a little proud of myself for it. So I trust me. BecauseIdid that.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re right to give yourself credit,” he said. “As a therapist, it’s beautiful when I get to see someone who really wants to change and become a better version of themselves. And I see it with you, Noah.”

My chest ached in the way it does when you’re holding something too full inside you, and it starts to spill over.

“Youdidall those things, but this—what you’re saying right now—this is where the real work shines through. Because you finally see how to use what’s in you in your favor. In a good way. A healthy way.”

He held my gaze. “And it’s helping you learn how to heal. That’s one of the most amazing things to witness.”

I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to hold it together, but my throat ached. “I wouldn’t have been able to without your help.”

He shrugged. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. You fought for it.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “And then some.”

“I’m proud of you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Ah, fuck,” I muttered, the words cracking under the weight of everything. “Thanks, Sam. Really…thanks.”

He gave me a moment. Sat there quietly, that soft smile still in place, while I pulled myself back together.

A year ago, I would’ve taken that silence as proof I wasn’t worth the air in the room. But now? Now the quiet felt earned. Like something solid I could lean on.

The breeze from the open window stirred the curtain. It carried salt and sun, and I let it fill my lungs. My chest felt light—almost unfamiliar in its ease.

But I smiled through it this time.

Because Ifeltit.

Something had shifted.

Ihad.

Friday came—and with it, the show.

The crowd kept growing, and even though it did a number on my nerves, I was insanely excited. Pax told me we’d sold out the day they posted about it.

Samuel and I had gone over that in our last session this week—how to use my new tools when the big emotions hit. He’d even suggested meditating before the show. So I came in a little earlier, got ready, and then sat on the floor next to Pax, letting him guide me through it. It probably wasn’t perfect, but I’d figure it out eventually.