I was not the most emotionally expressive person. The most emotion that I had ever shown, outside of anger, was when my father passed in 1995. That was the most devastating time in my life. (Surviving Katrina was the next, but the grief and hurt I felt for the situation outweighed most of the anger that arose later on.) Before my father died, I could count the number of times I cried or displayed any type of emotion in terms of compassion. I felt very deeply for people, cared for people, and even at the tender age of 14 began to ponder the meaning of life and existence, but I was too “hard” to show it. My heart was nearly hardened with the thought of displaying any type of compassion. For me, saying that you loved someone was a sign of weakness. I could literally never make myself say it. And there were so many times the urge to say the words, “I love you,” would come upon me, the urge to show it would come upon me and I would resist it each time. I didn’t want to be weak.

After more growth on the path of enlightenment, I soon discovered the true source of my resistance in opening my heart and life to love. My problem was that I was too busy looking at other people. I expected people to live and proclaim within their own lives what they said and when I found any inconsistencies (I found inconsistencies because I was looking for them) then I latched on to these inconsistencies as a “reason” for me to close my heart to love and devotion. But as I have grown to learn, what others do or don’t do, has nothing to do with me.