To Be Known

I am angry with myself and my own cowardice. This may come out messy but sometimes, that is just the way life is.

I desire to be known. Deeply known. But I am too fucking scared to actually step out and be known again.

I push away friends; allowing myself brief interactions, a dinner here, a phone call there.

I lash out at my boyfriend when he dissects my way of thinking and encourages me to be better because I feel like I am starting to be known.

I pushed away God for the longest time because it is within worship and the pages of Scripture that I feel the most raw.

I gloss over my pain with jokes and shrugs, diverting my eyes from the gaze of others.

I avoid rejoining groups of people that I would love to see, and I know would be overjoyed to see me, because I fear the knowledge that when they look at me, they see me. When they hug me in greeting, they know the pain, joy, and growth that is rippling under the surface of my skin.

And I am scared.

I have made a big show of learning to overcome my anxiety, learning to lean into fear. But in reality, fear still dictates much of my life.

I want to be known, because I can remember with a gentle ache the beauty of being known. The peace in understanding that someone has seen the ugliest parts of you and still holds you at the end of the night.

I don’t want to be known because being known means allowing a mirror to be held to my face. When I am alone, I can pretend. Inviting others into your inner dialogue smashes through the mirage.

I can’t run any longer if I let people in. I have to accept the mistakes I have made, the life I have lost, the people who have betrayed me. I have to remember the pain and the joy.

It’s much more comfortable to try to do that in silence. To slowly work through it alone, or with a close friend or two. To take baby steps into acceptance and growth.

But what I have realized in the past few months of slowly allowing others in, is that growth happens much faster with a team. A single conversation with another soul can heal wounds that would have taken weeks or months to tackle on my own.

And I also recognize that allowing myself to be known is a part of the healing. Allowing myself to be known is recognizing that I am growing. Some things don’t hurt the same as they used to. Encouraging myself to grow as a person is uncomfortable but worth it.

I have a scar over my heart. It’s ugly. Large. Some days it blooms red, others it fades to nearly blend in. It is a sign of beauty and growth, but also great trial. For the longest time I have been staring at that scar in the mirror, slamming my head into the wall trying to learn to accept it. How it looks and feels. But I am learning the beauty in allowing others to see the scar. To run their fingers over it, to recognize its significance, and for them to let me known that while I am fully seen, I am also fully loved.