my life story

I'm fairly introspective. Okay, very. I think a lot about what makes me who I am, what makes any of us who we are. I think about who I am now, who I was, and who I want to be. How do I see the world? How is it different from the way other people see the world? And why? How does my mind work, and why do all our minds work differently? How can I look at a puffy cloud and see a sheep, and someone else can look at the same cloud and see a car? I believe many of these answers can be traced back to the twist and tangle and spider web of events that comprise this thing we call our "life."

Sometimes, I have no idea what is fueling my actions or my feelings, or why my thoughts are flowing the way they are. Some days, I look into the mirror and I realize, I don't know myself very well. And so I thought, when I meet someone new, how do I get to know them? And I know the answer to that, because it's one of my favorite things to learn about someone else... to learn what the world looks like through their eyes. I find the answer in listening to their life story. The story of when and where they were born and raised, their parents and their family, their favorite and most traumatizing childhood memories, school, church, college, jobs, birthdays, holiday traditions, dreams and nightmares, relationships past and present, friends, losses, failures, and triumphs, on and on.. all rolled up into their life story.

I have on my 101 in 1001 List #82 which says: Tell someone my life story. And I planned to do it, when I found someone who I really wanted to let know me. But I decided that I needed to tell myself instead. I needed to tell myself, out loud and in detail, all the experiences of my own life. The good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. So, that's what I did.

I recounted birthday parties and how absolutely embarrassed I got when people sang "Happy Birthday" to me. And Christmases and Easters of waiting for Santa and the Easter Bunny, and then the dreadful realization that neither are real. I remembered going to a private school and being in small classes where we were more like siblings than friends. I thought about the news and events that followed with the announcement of each new baby my mama had, and all the excitement and fear of unknown we all felt each time one more was added.

I remembered the awkward middle school years and then moving into the public school system when I started high school. I took my time in walking through each date and kiss and relationship that never worked and all the hurt and shame that comes with unmet expectations and betrayal, and I thought about all the times I betrayed others too and how those scars are all so deep and real, even when I try to pretend they aren't.

And I recounted long nights I can barely remember and irresponsible decisions and then responsible ones too, both of which cost me things that weren't always easy to give up. I remembered learning lessons the hard way and not listening to my parents who really did know best, of course. And I told myself about my best friends and who I'd call under what circumstances and who I trust with secrets and who I go to for advice.

I thought about the moments that define my life, those moments when I was high on mountain tops and nothing could touch me, and the moments when I realized how small and powerless I really am in comparison with the world and the Creator of it all. And I cried a little and laughed a little at myself and at my wad of life experiences that are connected so absolutely intentionally with others and with the world. And when I finished telling myself my own life story, I did in fact feel like I knew myself a little bit better. And then I saw the world a little bit better. And then I could see people a little bit better. And isn't that what it's all about anyway?.. seeing people?