“What Are You Running From?”

“What are you running from?”

Her words landed on the lunch table with a jarring thud. What began as an amicable catch-up about my adventures and learnings over the last few years quickly took a judgmental nosedive.

“She’s interpreting my story all wrong,” I realized. But, the shame of feeling misunderstood welled up inside of me anyway.

Our lives had taken very different paths since we met in college. Hers, rich with marriage and kids, a stable career, and a house in the suburbs. Mine, driven by curiosity and exploration, fluid and ever-changing. Neither one better than the other. Just not the same.

Why do we judge those we don’t understand?

Judgement is like someone pointing a finger without realizing that three other fingers are pointing back at them. It’s much more revealing of the heart and healing journey of the “judge” than the judged.

Maybe this friend has a more free spirited part of her that feels unexpressed or unexplored. Or, maybe she harbors pain from an unstable childhood and feels unsafe around people who choose to color outside of the lines.

Still, her words stung.

And, not in a “the truth hurts” kind of way—in a “I feel reduced to a problem that needs to be solved” kind of way.

If she knew me as my close friends and family know me, she would understand that my big travels, cross-country moves, and creative experimentations haven’t been fueled by a fearful instinct to run. They’ve been a technicolored mosaic of opportunities, lessons, and miracles that have shaped me into the woman I am today. And, despite its painful moments, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

So, I’m thankful for this bit of judgement for inviting me to reflect and see my life through an even more beautiful lens. And, to get better at letting false narratives roll off of my back like water.