Reconnecting with curiosity where it really counts
I recently stopped sharing about my life without being asked. I had a feeling I knew what would happen, but wanted to see for sure. I was right… and I didn't want to be.
What I observed: the less I shared about myself, the less anyone asked how I was doing. If I didn't share, few people wondered. If I didn't offer my thoughts, nobody asked for them. If I didn't start a conversation, we sat in silence.
Most people really enjoy talking about themselves. That's not judgment. That's observation.
And observation has become one of the most powerful tools I have right now as I reconnect to myself and those around me.
What Curiosity Actually Requires
I've begun noticing just how few people are genuinely curious. The simplest thing –– asking how someone's doing, being interested in what's happening around them — takes presence. It takes genuine interest. And most people don't have the bandwidth for it. Not because they're selfish, but because they're so consumed by their own internal noise that there's very little room for anything outside of themselves.
They sit in their worry, their frustrations, their to-do lists. There's very little time for what's beyond arm's reach. Most people aren't willing to look truly at themselves — at the places where they're hiding, where the Itty Bitty Shitty Committee is running the show, where they're not very observant at all. Most people aren't present enough to observe because they're so focused on internal turmoil that they can't see what's actually happening around them.
Some of us were taught early on how to read a room. Some of that came from trauma or fear. But it's also a way of being — a choice to be curious about what's going on. It's both a learned skill and a trained one. Something we can develop if we want to. But most people never get to the point where they even notice it's possible.
The Friend Who Observed Without Comment
A long-time friend and I lost touch for about a year. I reached out numerous times but was met with silence. Then she read my last post and texted me asking how I was doing.
When I told her and asked about her, we realized we had been on remarkably similar journeys — happening simultaneously, completely unaware of each other's experience.
She shared that she had been keeping up with me on social media. Not reaching out, just reading everything. She felt like she was staying connected to my world. And because she was watching mine, she unconsciously assumed I must be seeing into hers somehow too.
But then I went offline. And she noticed how untrue that was.
She had gone dark without realizing it — consumed by everything happening in her own life, convincing herself that scrolling my feed was the same as being in relationship with me. She told me she thought about me daily. And then realized I had no idea.
It was incredible to hear this. Because I was completely oblivious. I had no idea she was there. I had no idea she was thinking about me. From my side, there was just silence.
She apologized for her disconnection. And in that conversation, we stepped into a beautiful reminder of what friendship truly is — not watching from a distance but showing up close enough to be felt.
Afterwards, she saw a sign — a literal sign — that said we should share our love loudly so the people we care about never have to doubt it (see below). Of course the little signs are everywhere. But this one was a real sign. And it said exactly what we both needed to hear.
The Three Kinds of "Friends"
This past week, my mom held me by the shoulders, looked deep in my eyes and reminded me that I needed to put myself first. That I needed to take care of myself and stop giving everything away. She knew I'd been doing it for most of my career — trying to be helpful, trying to be seen as helpful, when I was the one who needed help.
I gave so much that I ran out completely. And the universe decided to remind me that I couldn't give if I had nothing.
Which caused me to observe that the people in my life who have been taking from me instead of giving to me have been walking away in quick succession. Some quietly disappearing. Others loudly pushing back, letting me know that I'm the problem — not them.
I've observed that there are really three ways this plays out.
There are people who are only friends with others because they can fix them — so they can feel better about themselves or more important.
There are people who take from those who give and offer nothing in return.
And then there's the third kind — the ones who give and are being given to at the same time. That's where real friendship lives. That's where relationships become fully realized. That's where we meet each other in the center.
My friend who reached out after a year of silence? She's the third kind. She just forgot for a while. And so did I.
Here's my truth about friendship: in my real friendships, I feel like I'm getting the better end of the deal. And so do they. I don't want it any other way. Everyone else is just an acquaintance or a client.
Sometimes I'm more there for someone. Sometimes they're more there for me. But it's never about one person overgiving while the other just takes. As long as both people feel like they're getting the better end of the deal, that's the real thing.
What I'm Sitting With
A friend was dropping me off at the airport recently and made an observation about me: that I have a way of shifting everything into a positive without it being fake. What she didn't realize was that I had spent the previous weeks literally sitting with that noticing myself!
Every time someone complained about something near me, I was instinctively finding the other side of it. Not to bypass the pain. Not from a toxic positivity place. But because I've spent enough time in darkness to know that light exists alongside it. Always.
Darkness isn't bad. But light isn't just good, either. When we can hold both — the duality and the oneness of everything — we see more clearly.
After all this noticing of how many people around me complain, worry, and spiral, I had begun to catch myself doing it. And I realize that the more time I spend with people who are genuinely loving and present — not performatively positive but honestly uplifting — the more I remember that all of this is something we get to make meaning of. And meaning is a choice.
I've started to see just how much I've begun reconnecting with myself in this fourth phase of The Reclamation. But also how much more there is. Looking around at the world through the eyes of a child — with curiosity and wonder — and reminding myself that I don't have to make anything mean anything if I don't want to.
My friend watched my life from a distance for a year and thought she was showing up. Going offline showed both of us the truth: connection isn't observation. It's participation.
So I'll leave you with this: What would it look like to stop watching and start showing up? To tell someone you love them before a sign on the road has to remind you? To slow down long enough to realize that everything you need is already right in front of you — but only if you're willing to be seen while you're seeing it?
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Want to comment or share your thoughts with me? Since I'm not on social media, send me a love note or write me some snail mail to 505 Beachland Blvd. Ste 1 #143 Vero Beach FL 32963. Include your return address and I'll write you back.
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Catch up on The Reclamation Series:
PHASE I: The Identity Detox
The Reclamation Begins - 3/19
The Siren Song vs The Soul's Song - 3/24
The Dragon Inside of Me - 4/1
The Painful Gift of Cracking - 4/5
The Old Dirt Road Just Off The Highway - 4/13
The Door of Possibility - 4/21
PHASE II: The Road Trip
The Free Fall - 5/4
The Anxiety Attack That Never Came - 5/11
The Woman in the Mirror - 5/21
The Art of the Darkness - 5/28
PHASE III: The Release
The True Tragedy - 6/2
The Illusion of Control - 6/8
The Quiet Work - 6/17
The House That Came Alive - 6/30
PHASE IV: The Reconnection