I was scrolling through my facebook newsfeed one not too distant night when I came across a video that really peeked my interest. A person went around to strangers and asked them what was the most painful thing they had ever been told – and they filmed the interaction. I pick people apart like puzzles. The more complicated the puzzle, generally speaking, the longer I hang around. I love to know what makes people tick, their perspectives and stories. (So you can see why this video interested me.)
Naturally it had me thinking to the most painful thing I had ever been told. Not to be Debbie downer, but it was hard to narrow it down to one thing. I can recall different people at different times, but at that particular time they all had the same intensity of pain for me. So I started thinking about my reactions to these incidents and the effect these painful words had on my life. So judging by that rubric I can narrow it down to a situation that occurred after my freshmen year of college. I have come so far away from that place (emotionally, and mentally) but it makes me wonder how different my life might have been had those words never been spoken. This entry is not going to be very fluent or well put together fyi. I had a bad day today so this might just be a spattering of questions and thoughts. I met with someone over coffee in the beginning of this year and we were talking about our fears – (you know, cheery coffee chatter). I said something about the insecurities I continue to wrestle with.
He asked me “Who told you something was wrong with you? Do you ever wonder about that? These fears and insecurities we have – it’s like in Genesis when Adam and Eve hid from God and God questioned them with ‘Who told you you were naked?’ Where does our shame come from? It’s only the devil.” He probably was trying to be insightful, he struck me as someone who really prided himself on intelligence. He probably heard it in a sermon once. I smiled and nodded and muttered something about it being insightful. I didn’t want to open up too much, plus he looked so proud of himself and I didn’t want to ruin that for him – but I know exactly where I learned shame, and who told me what at what time, what I was wearing, what the weather was like – for every incident, and every wound.
I have tried to connect, over and over and over again. I have put myself out there. I have been vulnerable. I have been burnt out, hurt, used and dismissed. And I have tried again. And again. And again. And again.
Why are things that come so easily to others so difficult for me? Things that should just be natural feel like rocket science?
I believe that anyone who shows me kindness is insincere – that they have ulterior motives and they usually do.
I think I make a lovely hermit.
People aren’t born insecure and suspicious. All a baby can do is trust.
Can I have a dollar everytime I’m misunderstood?
When you’re a kid you are automatically friends with everyone you meet. Adults clash with each others defense mechanisms.
At seventeen I was brave. The only thing that scared me was change. And that’s all that happened since.
The cruelest things I have ever encountered have been caused by Christians. And I still believe in God. Is that righteousness or stupidity?