In this space, I’ve made it a point to lay forth my mistakes and pains, my heartaches and disappointments so that others may learn from where I’ve been and hopefully avoid the pitfalls that have befallen me during these 26 years of mine. One such subject is that of self-worth—maintaining a sense of value and importance when the mistakes I’ve made would rather lead me to think otherwise. It’s a daily struggle that I’ve dealt with at treacherous lengths and, to this day, hold close to my heart. I only hope my learned lessons can be of use to you.

Regret is an ugly beast. Do you know what I mean? It gnaws at us and restrains us. We make mistakes, all of us. Sometimes they’re made purely by accident; other times, they are simply our own admitted fault of picking the wrong choice and having to live with the consequences. When these mistakes are made, it’s so easy for us to maintain the regrets that accompany them—to entertain them even. We think on them and worry about them. We stress on the situations and wallow within the faults of our past. The simplicity in which these regrets attack us can confuse us due to the emotions attached and this, in turn, tends to shore us emotionally and most certainly spiritually. As we hold on to our past, placating it and focusing on what we could (or should) have done different, we begin to doubt our own goodness, our own self-worth. It’s in these moments when we are at our most vulnerable. It is within those tiny moments of emotional self-mutilation that we become shells of our former selves.

I can spout pompous clichés all day about how the past is the called “the past” for a reason or how you need to “build a bridge and get over it,” but it wouldn’t do a bit of good. We both know that. When I was at my lowest and wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath the floor and disappear forever, it took dear friends pulling me up, staring hard into my weary, tear stained eyes and telling me with their wonderful mouths of mercy and grace that I was worth something, that I deserved goodness in my life, that I wasn’t too far gone for God to redeem me. I credit them for the fact that I draw breath as I type these words. So today, in this very moment, let me be that dear friend to you.

I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care who you’ve lied to. I don’t care who you’ve betrayed or who you’ve hurt. I do not care who you’ve slept with. I don’t care what heinous acts you may have committed in your dastardly past. You are worth the good things you so deeply want. You are so achingly beautiful and today, right now, you are deserving of wonderful, monumental gifts of goodness. I know you may be hurting and I realize you may not feel worthy of the strength needed to mount a forward-marching fight, but I am here to say you are. You are worth something tangible, something lovely. Man or woman, teenager or adult, it matters not. You are what the mesmerizing stories of redemptive measures are built upon. You are worth the air you breathe. You are worth a mighty war. You are worthy of a good, Godly mercy. You, sweet soul, are worth it all.

(Note: You can find me on Twitter @Cory_Copeland. Please feel free to share this with anyone you see fit. Thank you so much for reading and reblogging the way you do. It means the world to me.)