smol group

i can probably count the number of times i been to church this year with the fingers on my hands.

but it be like that sometimes. barista life is hard.

i went to smol group last night at eric's church and damn, baggage is real.

i remember the last time i tried going to a new church all my myself and it was not pretty. i had to reckon with my past demons, the ones i thought i put down long time ago. i knew i was shy, but this was something else.

social anxiety is a mofo.
i felt powerless. small.

when i showed up to small group last night, it was a constant and active effort not to sink back into that same place of self-pity –and in this christianese version – self-excommunication.

it was conscious battle of wits – with myself – for myself. to avoid sinking back into that hole of isolation and disillusioned comfort inside of myself. to keep myself from picking up the same baggage, one more time.

"that is not me."

i have power. power to say hello, power to ask how you're doing, power to ask more about who you are.

i don't need to wait for you.

you don't think that of me.
i think that of myself, but it's probably not true.

stuff like this, 
trying to think it into existence, 
ringing in my head, 
the entire time, 
at small group.

that's the funny thing with inner demons. you may have moved on from them, buried them into the ground, but you can still resurrect them any time you want.