Those Boxes in the Closet

Being back in Wichita, for however long, always has an element of emotional strain.

The other day, I compared it to running into an old boyfriend.

"Oh yeah... that's why we broke up."

My actual family and my church family are still amazing and always worth the drive. But everything else (from the lack of pedestrian-friendly distances between anything to the lack of anything fun to do besides spend money) is only tolerable for a few days. But knowing that I'll only be here for a few days makes it almost enjoyable.

The puppy, the park, the political friends, Copper Oven breakfast, a Starbucks date, and the obligatory unannounced visit to the Galyardts. That's the good stuff. That's what keeps me from being suffocated by the empty shells of faded relationships.

Mom and I were trying (*ahem* yeah, trying) t0 clean out my old room today. I found a rather sparkly black purse tucked under some shoe boxes. Inside were five intricately folded notes, written in several different colors of gel pen. Wow...

I couldn't help but sit and read through them. Four were from Alli, and one was from Cara. The ones from Alli were all about how we were mad at Cara, and the one from Cara was her trying to figure out who was mad at her.

"Hello, 14-year-old self. Shut the hell up and find better friends."

I'm now fairly certain that, however much I cherish and learn from my memories, forgetfulness has to be a survival mechanism. If I still had any idea what that fight had been about (I really don't!), if I still felt the weight of those experiences, I'd have no capacity to process everything NOW that contains infinitely more value to me and others.

We have to forget. Forgetting must be part of learning. It's something I've always been afraid to let happen, which is why I still have so many t-shirts, pictures, books, notes, journals... but that past self (which wouldn't be bad material for a Project Mortified show) has so little to do with the person I have become.

Being reminded does nothing beneficial other than show me how much better judgment I have of other peoples' character, and how much confidence I have gained. There's proof of both in the incredible people who now surround me.

I guess those aren't bad things to find out.

But if you want to know anything about what I was like before I started living for Jesus, watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and pay lots of attention to Clementine. I'm serious.

-Katie