The Fishbowl Life

I don’t know about you, but I am an introvert. Hardcore. Which means, if I am up in my room and the door is shut, you better not even think about coming in. But if you really dare, if you really need me for some reason, you knock. But don’t expect a hearty, warm, hospitable welcome into my room. You are, essentially, in my mind, trespassing into MY space.  Sound harsh and selfish? It is. And realistically, that description is more fitting of me on a bad day. But all that was to emphasize how much I appreciate personal, private space. I like that I can close the door, put on music, shut out the world, and be alone. It’s my time to recharge. When I am alone, I am in a private space where I can feel absolutely comfortable being me, because there are no outside opinions or voices. I am left by myself to inwardly deal with the good things and bad things in the hopes of being more self aware of who I am or who God created and intends for me to be. 

I sacrificed that meditative alone time. If I rewind through the past month, there has been absolutely no time to be alone. No privacy. You know how some people say they have a personal bubble? I said goodbye to that privilege about a month ago. Personal space is non-existent here. It’s not just because I live with my team of nine ladies. It’s not just because we’ve arranged a buddy system for safety wherever and whenever we go out. It’s not just because whenever I go to use the restroom there is usually another person in there. It’s because I live in a fishbowl. 

Welcome to my life. I live in an area that is located right in the middle of a small neighborhood. Even though we live next to a church on a fenced property, the gates are always open and children are always coming in. Our normal hangout spot is a gazebo located on the property, but that doesn’t offer privacy either. The screens surrounding the gazebo shut the kids out, but it doesn’t prevent them from comically pressing their faces against the screen. Only, after a while, it’s not so comical when they continue staring through our meals, during our quiet times, while we read, while we pray and worship, even while we work out in that space. Nothing phases these children; nothing bores them. Asking them or more like stuttering in frustrated, broken Spanish for them to go home is like telling a barking dog to go home and expecting it to understand you. But that’s impossible. They follow you. If we want to get away and lay in our hammocks, it’s guaranteed that five minutes in you WILL have a little one wanting to snuggle in with you. And if we need privacy and choose to go into our bedroom, they still look through the windows. I told you, I live in a fishbowl. Everything my teammates and I do is on display. When Shakespeare said “All the world’s a stage,” he couldn’t be more right in describing our situation. Our life is nothing but a theatrical comedy or tragedy for the kids to watch. But there is no curtain, no intermission, and no exit for us, as the actors, to take. And escaping definitely is not as easy as shutting the door thinking that by doing so you are shutting the world out. It’s every introvert’s (and I would even argue some extrovert’s) nightmare. But if you really want to get Freudian-nerdy, then you know that we possibly can learn from nightmares.  One thing that has been challenging for me on this trip is being open. Though it has been difficult dealing with a lifestyle open for everyone to see, I’m defining open in terms of being vulnerable and honest with my teammates, with myself, and especially with God.  I don’t mind sharing thoughts, opinions, stories or whatnot. But if you start hounding me for real, uncomfortable feelings or honest feelings, I only tell half of the feeling. I always hold back. It’s like taking a magnifying glass and choosing what part you want to magnify. But God took that magnifying glass and expanded it. He wants to “fishbowl” my heart. As much as I love my space and I love being selective with my information and I love being in relationships where the amount I relay is on my terms, I realised that God already knew my heart and that His relationship was one where it couldn’t be on my terms. And more importantly, even though God sees me for who I am, He still desires for me to pursue Him. A real relationship can’t be founded on extreme introverted tendencies to be alone and guarded and private. I can’t just “closet” myself away from God. God delights in my honesty when I say “Gosh dang it I really screwed that up. I’m always acting out of pride or selfishness.” Because when I become open with God, I allow myself availability for God to change me and shape me. When I no longer have any hidden corners and my heart is as transparent as a fishbowl, I allow myself to receive grace. Because becoming vulnerable is humbling. And for me, vulnerability before God is shameful, because rarely do I have pure intentions, if I am honest with myself. But even though it feels shameful, God desires my honesty. Honesty deepens a relationship. Vulnerability signifies trust and intimacy. It’s not something I can get out of and back in to a closet to escape. But it’s not something forced either, which is why God would rather me be honest in telling Him even though He already knows. He is the one knocking at my door wanting to enter, but He won’t open it uninvited. He wants me to meet Him, to put aside my introverted-ness, my comfort in privacy, and open the door.