I’ve had an email in my inbox that I’m terrified to read. Turns out I’m not the only one who writes about the pain of the church. One of the other people wrote their story and emailed it to me. And I’m totally gonna read it. But I’m scared.
I guess, I feel that their pain will be more real if I read it. Maybe, it’s easier to think that it’s easier to contain if I’m the only one talking. Maybe it’s cause I’m a Leo.
A double click will keep my commitment. I feel like such a hypocrite, publishing tomes of my memories and not being able to read theirs. But when I was showering, I thought about something else. It’s bigger than me. I think that reading their story will make mine times two. And open an exponential door into a monstrous house of pain.
If I hurt this much and they hurt this much – and there were 40 families. That’s just too much. It’s too big. I feel like it’s opening the front cover of a really big book.
I also feel like this whole thing is a mystery. I hear so many stories about how the church ended, how it crumbled. But I don’t know 100% because I’m the one who walked away. I got disowned by my family and excommunicated, yes I engineered it. And yes that played a big part in exposing a lot of the BS going on. But I’ve learned there were so many other factors at play.
So, after walking away from rubble it’s scary to walk back in and excavate and see what really went down and what the damage was.
But, dang I feel like a hypocrite for not being able to read that email.