Let's. Get. INQUISITIVE!

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it might just be key to how you can overcome your trauma.

”I wonder if I could handle living on my own again?”

That was the question that entered my mind in the early summer of 2022. That one simple idea invaded my thoughts, and interrupted the safe, secure, but admittedly very timid lifestyle I’d been cultivating for years.

And it kept showing up, every morning, noon, and night. Until I couldn’t hide from it, and I just had to know what would happen if I dared to follow it where it wanted to lead me.

Six months after allowing that question to inform my thoughts and my actions, I was standing in the leasing office of my apartment complex here in Lubbock, Texas. I was more than 1,400 miles away from the safety and comfort of my parent’s house, where I’d lived for the past 14 years.

And I was ready to tackle this new chapter of my life called:

“Can I survive, and thrive, in a new and difficult environment, where I’ll have to be fully responsible for my own welfare, and for all my thoughts, feelings, and actions?”

(Spoiler: the answer is yes, I can. And I’m confident now that you can, too, if you’re willing to work for that kind of life, and allow your curiosity to assist your decision-making process.)

As I completed the walkthrough of my apartment and officially signed my lease, I wasn’t even nervous. Nor was I the least bit afraid. That in itself was a miracle for someone who’s lived with constant fear, depression, and anxiety for more than 20 years.

(Both those feelings and more would manifest later, but on that day I was comfortable, confident, and curious about where this new life would take me.)

I remember meeting the girls in the leasing office, and feeling warm and welcome, like they truly were happy to see me and eager to help. I would learn later that’s how pretty much everyone is in West Texas.

I met the maintenance crew that same day. I had some sort of minor issue with the apartment — I think some of the electrical outlets were loose — and they were kind and conversational folks, and I remember thinking to myself how easy it felt all of a sudden for me to just talk to other people, and show interest in who they are, and what they do. That curiosity would soon serve me incredibly well.

As I started getting settled in, I let my curiosity guide me in how to arrange my furniture, organize the drawers and cupboards in my kitchen, and decorate my apartment so it could feel like home.

I moved so many things around between so many different rooms (well, not that many rooms; I only have three: the main room, a guest room which I turned into my office, and the master bedroom).

I even made up a list of local attractions, venues, and restaurants I want to explore while I’m here. I’ve yet to make a significant dent in that list, mostly due to my social anxiety acting up again, but I remain curious about what’s out there.

When I do feel up to getting out, that curiosity makes those outings fun, and rewarding, and it makes me want to get out more, so I can have more of those fun experiences in my life.

I was surprised to discover I was even curious at church.

Prior to moving to Lubbock, I’d been very passionate about my beliefs. I developed the habit, before I moved, of daily prayer and scripture study, desiring to know and to do God’s will for me. And I was already going to church as often as my PTSD and fibromyalgia would allow.

I’d had countless experiences I could only chalk up to miracles, to evidence of God’s hand in my life, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was leading me to Lubbock for reasons only He fully understood.

But somehow, this whole idea of, “Can I make it on my own,” even spilled over into my church life, making that more meaningful (and more exciting) than ever before.

I found myself in Sunday school, asking deep, thought-provoking questions about the most basic tenets of our religion. These questions would then spark discussions that sometimes lasted ten minutes or more, which is rare in the Sunday schools I’d attended in the past.

My curiosity made it possible for me to take a big step out of my comfort zone, to volunteer as an usher at the local performing arts center, the Buddy Holly Hall of Performing Arts and Sciences. (Which by the by, is one of the most elegant theaters I’ve seen in a long time. It’s so posh it almost feels out of place in such a small town.)

Being a volunteer usher has been life-changing in its own right. It’s given me a safe and comfortable way to get a little more social interaction in my life, and since volunteers watch the show for free, it’s let me enjoy an assortment of concerts, symphonies, ballets, and musical theater that I otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford.

The area where my newfound curiosity has had the greatest impact, though, has to be in my professional life. (Which didn’t even exist prior to Lubbock.)

As I started learning how I can use my words and my talents to write effective and persuasive sales copy, I became curious about the craft. I pored over the material I was learning, often watching one video or reading one lesson as many as 5-6 times, each time wanting to understand some different aspect of what I was learning.

I started interacting with other students, writers, and marketers, sharing the things I was learning and asking for their insights and opinions. I developed an attitude of genuinely wanting to know what other people think, and how that knowledge might make me a better writer.

I saw opportunities opening up before me, and instead of recoiling out of fear or anxiety, I found a way to remain interested and to explore the opportunity to see if just maybe, it might be for me. Oftentimes the answer was no, but as I continued to learn and develop, more and more of those opportunities began to look like yeses — or at least, strong maybes.

And because I was curious about where these opportunities might lead, I was able to quiet my anxiety and my PTSD enough to let me ask questions, have conversations, and explore these opportunities, without “having to have” a specific outcome or result.

This let me examine possibilities without getting attached, which kept my anxiety from ever getting the better of me, as I quickly grew from being a scared, undisciplined, irresponsible “kid,” to a mature, focused, hard-working man, standing now at the base of a thrilling, promising career that’s calling me on to new heights.

Had I arrived in Lubbock, barely more than one year ago, and had a specific vision in mind, my trauma and my fear and anxiety would never have allowed me to pursue it this freely. (In point of fact, I did have a specific vision when I arrived, and the career path I’m on now, because I let myself remain curious, is lightyears ahead of what I’d envisioned for myself.)

My curiosity has allowed me to have Zoom calls and face-to-face discussions with founders, presidents, and CEOs of companies, and to approach these meetings with an air of indifference, so far as the outcome of the meeting is concerned.

Where before I would’ve been too afraid to even consider “jumping on a call” with someone to find out whether we’d be a good fit, businesswise, today I’ll schedule a same-day business meeting with anybody if I think I might be able to help them, or potentially learn from them.

I don’t even care about their title, their job description, their pecking order... I’m so darn curious about this new world I keep discovering, I just wanna talk to everybody. I wanna understand their perspective, and what we in marketing call their pain points: those problems and challenges that keep them awake at night, and keep their business from realizing its full potential.

I don’t even care about whether or not I “get the deal.” I just wanna talk with them and see if maybe we can come up with even one good idea that will propel their business forward.

I just wanna help. I wanna be helpful. I wanna provide excellent service, and real value — but before all that, I just wanna learn...

I want to understand what got them into that business in the first place. I want to hear their story, and their struggle. I want to know what excites them, what they’re passionate about, and what kind of vision they have for the future of their business.

And I want to know, in their words, what they see they need help with.

Because it doesn’t matter how much you can help another person or organization, if they don’t believe they need help with whatever it is that you provide. And you can’t find out what kind of help they want, without being curious about their business, and their goals and dreams.

You have to understand the person first, and the business second. You do that by asking questions, and you discover what questions to ask by remaining curious.

This applies to any area of your life (or potentially, the life of another) you want to improve. So many times, we think we know what we need. But we haven’t bothered to ask ourselves the right questions, first, to determine what we actually need.

When we think we know the answer before we begin,

When our minds are fixed on only one way to solve the problem,

When we’re close-minded enough that we can’t allow for any other way but the one we’re determined to prove is the “right way,”

We can’t see anywhere near the number of possibilites that present themselves when we just take one step back, and allow ourselves the least bit of curiosity, and ask ourselves,

“What if?”

What if there was more than one answer?

What if there are multiple ways to solve this problem?

What if there’s more than one “right way?” (What if any way that moves you closer to your goal is “the right way?”)

What if you can handle the thing before you, that your fear or your trauma is telling you is too overwhelming?

What if instead of giving into your fear, you made way for even the smallest bit of wonder and inquisitiveness?

Wouldn’t you be curious what difference that might make in your life?

I was, and it changed the course of my entire existence.

Who knows? Maybe it can change yours, too.