What Belief About Myself Am I Ready to Question Gently, Curiously, Without Fear?
AYFM 2026 Reflection Card
This post is part four in a ten part series answering each of the questions in the As You Find Me 2026 Reflection Card. Revisit part one, part two, part three. You are encouraged to answer each question for yourself.
There’s a question on the As You Find Me 2026 Reflection Card that feels less like a prompt and more like an invitation to loosen my grip:
“What belief about myself am I ready to question gently, curiously, without fear?”
Not interrogate.
Not dismantle.
Not shame myself into changing.
Just question.
Gently.
Curiously.
Without fear.
And when I sit with that, one belief rises to the surface like something that’s been waiting patiently for me to notice it:
The belief that I can’t trust my own intentions.
The Belief That My Authenticity Is Always in Question
About seven weeks ago, I wrote something that still echoes in my mind:
“I don’t always know what the hell being authentic really is because my brain will have another reason for the action in mind.”
That sentence wasn’t self‑pity.
It was honesty.
For most of my life, I’ve carried this belief that my motives are suspect. That if I look closely enough, I’ll find some hidden agenda, some performative layer, some flaw in the foundation. Especially in my spiritual life. Especially in the places that matter most.
But lately, I’ve been noticing something softer emerging:
I’m not trying to catch myself in a lie.
I’m trying to understand myself with compassion.
Maybe authenticity isn’t a single pure motive.
Maybe it’s the willingness to stay curious about why I do what I do.
The Belief That I Don’t Deserve What I Want
Six weeks ago, I asked myself three questions that felt like they came from a deeper place:
“What do I deserve? What do I want? And what is God’s plan?”
Those questions weren’t about entitlement.
They were about worth.
Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the belief that wanting something is dangerous, that desire is selfish, that my needs should be the last ones considered. That God’s plan is something that happens to me, not with me.
But then I wrote something last week that surprised me:
“It’s kind of what have we accomplished—what has God accomplished in me in my faith journey.”
We.
Not God dragging me along.
Not me performing for approval.
A partnership.
Which means maybe I’m allowed to want things.
Maybe I’m allowed to believe I deserve goodness.
Maybe desire isn’t a threat to faith but a companion to it.
The Belief That My Family History Defines Me
Two weeks ago, I admitted something I’ve avoided for years:
“I’m not sure what will be uncovered… what threads will connect to my present thinking, my present skills, my present capabilities, my present personality.”
There was no fear in that sentence.
Just curiosity.
For the first time, I wasn’t bracing for what I might find.
I wasn’t assuming the worst.
I wasn’t preparing to be undone.
I was simply acknowledging that my past shaped me—but it doesn’t imprison me.
Maybe the belief I’m ready to question is the one that says I’m bound to repeat the patterns I came from.
Maybe I’m allowed to grow beyond them.
Maybe healing doesn’t require fear—just honesty.
The Belief That Change Must Be Understood Before It Counts
Recently, I found myself wrestling with a question that felt almost philosophical:
“How is knowing the origin of a change different from just changing without knowing why?”
It was a sincere question, not a trap.
For so long, I’ve believed that if I don’t understand the why, the what doesn’t count. That change only “counts” if it’s traceable, explainable, narratable.
But maybe that belief is ready to soften.
Maybe some changes arrive quietly.
Maybe some healing happens without a thesis statement.
Maybe growth doesn’t need a backstory to be real.
Maybe I’m allowed to change simply because I’m changing.
The Belief I’m Finally Ready to Question
When I put all of this together: the authenticity questions, the worth questions, the family pattern questions, the spiritual partnership questions, the change without explanation questions, I can see the thread.
I’m ready to question the belief that I cannot trust myself.
Not in a dramatic, tear down the walls way.
But gently.
Curiously.
Without fear.
I’m ready to believe that my intentions can be good.
That my desires can be honest.
That my past can be explored without swallowing me.
That my faith is a partnership, not a performance.
That change can be real even when I don’t understand its origin.
I’m ready to believe that I am trustworthy.
Not perfect.
Not fully healed.
But trustworthy.
And maybe that’s the quiet miracle of this season:
I’m learning to see myself the way God already does—
with curiosity, compassion, and a surprising amount of grace.
Answering the As You Find Me 2026 Reflection Card questions is possible due to journaling with Rosebud. Rosebud offers something rare: a space that listens back. It turns journaling from a monologue into a conversation, helping you slow down enough to hear what your inner life has been trying to say.