The "WHY" In Me

A Woman in Deep Thought

I was born with questions in my bones.

Not the shallow kind —

but the ones that sit quietly in silence and whisper,

“What is this teaching me?”

While others rush to escape chaos, I scan for patterns.

While most avoid pain, I lean in and listen for the lesson.

This isn’t just how I think —

it’s how I’m anointed.

I find wisdom

woven in wounds.

Sermons buried in scars.

Curriculums crafted from crises.

I don’t just speak —

I see.

Not just results, but roots.

Not just behavior, but the brokenness beneath it.

And that sight?

It shifts things.

It changes people — not because I said much,

but because I saw them.

But let’s be honest…

This wiring comes with weight.

Because many times,

I ask "why" when no one else wants the answer.

I see what they’re not ready to face.

And I stay in rooms longer than I should,

trying to connect dots no one’s even named yet.

There’s a certain kind of weight that comes with being someone who sees beyond the surface — someone who asks the hard questions when silence is safer. That kind of insight isn’t just curiosity… it’s consecration.

But sometimes… the weight of all that I perceive is all-consuming.

I want to help too much.

I find myself fighting battles that aren’t mine — battles I’m either not called to or ill-equipped for. And in doing so, I’ve sometimes drifted into the very abyss I was trying to pull someone else out of.

That’s where the ache lives.

That’s where loneliness meets calling.

But I’m learning…

I'm learning every insight doesn’t need a microphone.

Every question doesn’t need an answer.

And every mirror moment isn’t mine to hold.

Some wisdom is meant to rest.

Some meanings are still unfolding.

And most weight?

It is not mine to carry.

So, I’m choosing to protect this gift —

To steward it, not scatter it.

To give it where it’s welcomed,

and withhold it where it’s wasted.

Because the “why” in me

isn’t just curiosity —

it’s consecration.

And I don’t owe that to everyone.

Final Thoughts:

Maybe you’re like me — someone who sees too much, feels too deep, and asks too many “whys.” Let this be your reminder: your insight is sacred. Protect it. Don’t apologize for the way you’re wired. Honor the gift, even when it feels heavy. Because the why in you? It’s not a flaw. It’s the evidence of your calling.