In 2011, I began to be curious.
That’s not entirely true. I was a curious child. Maybe I should say thirty-eight years ago, I began to be curious.
I remember seeking out those big yellow Curious George books at the library when I was four or five. I could find them myself back in the olden days when there were only seven titles. I loved Curious George.
Somewhere along the road, I lost my curiosity. I realized that it wasn’t safe to be curious. It was annoying at best and got me into trouble at worst. I began to try to figure life out on my own and make sense of the world though my childish eyes, which was a recipe for disaster.
I stopped being curious and started trying to survive. It was an exhausting way to live. I shut down inside, cut off feelings, tried to be happy and not make waves.
Back to 2011…
I was given the opportunity to attend The Journey, and took the risk of accepting the gift, because that’s what it was. A gift. An invitation.
All expenses paid, including airfare, given by a friend that I hardly knew. One heart connection made over an August weekend in Texas, and that October we would be roommates sorting through our deepest hurts.
Risky. Red flags. Curious.
At that time in my life a journal entry reads…
I feel exhausted.
I have spent so much time exhausted.
I can’t see how to change any of it.
Someone once told me I was the most “highly functional” person they knew.
I would call it “overly – functional.”
I feel empty.
I don’t know what it would take to move beyond.
I cannot control every aspect of life and every response to every aspect by every person and what God is doing with everyone in all aspects of their life.
How do I live it without being selfish?
How do I know what makes me unique?
How do I find my way out of the chaos?
How do I trust and love and feel?
When does discomfort become a crisis?
Why does it seem like I’ve been here before?
When do I cry ENOUGH! I CAN’T DO THIS! ?
When do I find time to grieve life’s dead dreams?
Because it’s not the things I didn’t do, it’s what I did.
And I did a lot of things that I regret.
I am overwhelmed by all that I am required to do, but burdens are many, and choices seem few.
Buried deep inside, wanting to escape, wondering why everyone else is worthy and why my ugly heart continues to beat.
So right now what does it look like to move beyond and move on? To honestly face the hurt, pain, regret? To silence the voices that some find ridiculous, yet I find debilitating? To trust and believe and hope and dream. What is that? It’s what I long for.
I long for the real me to stand up and be heard and loved just for who she is.
The real me was about to grab that chance. I accepted the invitation to be curious and made plans to attend My Journey Begins.