I make no bones about it, I run on passion. It courses through my veins and makes me who I am. I am passionate about everything I do, how I spend my time, what my work means to me, the books that I love to read, and the people I love to love. Once I asked my husband to find one word that described who I was. He actually came up with two, the first being passionate, the second being curious. Sounds like a dangerous mix. It is not easy living with such a passionate person. I honestly don't know how he does it, but apparently he likes it otherwise I think he would have bailed out a long time ago. God knows there are easier women to live with. My husband used to call it "my spice," but now I think he knows it is just who I am. Just in case your were curious, my word for him was "loyal," which probably explains a lot.
For a long time I spent my life trying to undo the passion in me, and to not feel so much. I wanted to be "normal." Don't ask me what I thought normal was, but obviously I thought is was anything that wasn't me. I think I learned early on to not let myself feel too much. It was just too dangerous. When one feels a lot of passion in their heart, it also opens them up to be hurt. Pain becomes the obvious by-product.
Having experienced a good chunk of pain in my life, I thought the best thing I could do is just close myself off. This would allow me to function better in this life, so my thinking went. The result was that I lost myself in all the disguises. My heart became small, and my soul was distancing itself from God. When I moved back to Utah, I started to see what I had done was nothing less than suicide. I made the decision to take myself back, which included opening myself up to the pain again. I decided it was worth risking some pain to be myself again.
Yesterday was an example of my changing self. I love animals. If you know who I am, or have spent any amount of time with me, you would pick up on this pretty quickly. I have supported many animal shelters and rescue organizations. When I say support, I mean donate supplies and cash. I haven't always allowed myself to get in and do the dirty work, the stuff that would make the abandonment real as well as the sadness. Yesterday, a friend was volunteering for No More Homeless Pets doing an adoption drive at the Taylorsville Petsmart and invited me to help out. I wanted to do it, but felt resistance coming from within. Those old attachments of not wanting to feel anything made their presence known. I fought with myself and kicked myself in the butt to go. Once I got there I couldn't wait to dig in and help out anyway I could. I cuddled and played with the kitties, took all the dogs for walks, and met with perspective adopters. All the while I had to keep constant vigilance to stop my heart from coming up. I fell in love with all of the little guys especially one little puppy (the guy at the top of this post who almost came home with me, but was adopted into a real good home). It was hard to stay focused on just providing them companionship and compassion and not load them all up to take them home. When I came home I just sat down and cried. Not that I wanted to, but because I had to. I had no where else to put it all.
As I left the adoption drive, I talked with the volunteer coordinator about doing more work for them. I cannot imagine not doing this no matter how hard it is on my heart. I am meant to be this person. I may not always want to be who I am, but I have no choice...not anymore. With great passion, great love, great compassion, and a desire to help those that are in need, comes pain, sadness, loss, and heartache. Just like everyone else, I am here for a reason. God put all this passion inside of me that allows me to give and help those that are in need, and I fully intend on doing exactly what He has asked me to.
"Your just an empty cage girl, if you kill the bird" - Crucify
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