Relocating My Roots

My family moved fairly often in my youth. I think my mother needed a regular change of scenery. She put down roots quickly, making her way around the neighborhood to introduce herself, pies in hand. She was never shy to lend a cup of sugar or provide a casserole when a neighbor was under the weather.

Since moving, I have not taken time to meet my neighbors. I told myself I am afraid to put down roots. That isn't correct. I recognized today I am afraid to try.

What if my neighbors reject me?

As my abuse worsened and my friends withdrew, a truth emerged: many are afraid of abuse by association. I take care not to disclose where I am coming from because it can easily get back to the man who hurt me. I am not that far from him and we have many mutual acquaintances.

I am afraid of my neighbors being afraid of me.

This is a "self-limiting" thought. I can't determine how a person will feel before meeting them. If they do reject me, I have only lost a possibility. Ultimately, it is not that big a deal. It will hurt. I'm not an "enlightened" person free from attachment to my ideas.

My approach to self-limitation is Hulk-smashing it. My plan of attack is to buy wine, bake a bevy of pies and knock on the doors closest to mine. It feels very scary. This is a good fear, though. Like roller coaster or album release anticipation.

My life is a journey. I am the navigator.

This is a twist on a bumper sticker I saw. It said: Life is a journey. I need a navigator.

What I mean is, I cannot rely on anyone else to get me where I need to go. Just as I had to choose to leave my relationship for myself, I have to choose whether I will stay closed in my house in fear, or if I will reach out to those around me. This fear is me keeping a foot on a negative path. I need to take the final step away and place my roots elsewhere.

xoxo,

Dani

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