I’ve heard that a lot lately — what if this happens? What if that happens?
I suppose everything is in the realm of possibility. It could happen. Do you want it to happen? How much time do you invest in making it happen, if indeed our thoughts are powerful?
I spent much of my childhood living in fear. The what ifs. The fear itself is much worse than what actually happened — though at times, they matched up. I had to learn the hard way that no parent or girlfriend, pastor or place would grant me a feeling of safety. Being adopted, you learn that safety is something that must be developed inwardly because the first lesson you learn: people leave, often without explanation.
I nurture a feeling of safety by engaging in my life. I plan a road trip. Shop for cars. Play golf with my cat (she’s crazed about her golf ball). Listen to opera — it soothes me right now. Record my dreams. Eat really good food. Thank God for everything. I resist the urge to drop into the terrifying visions that others create for themselves. I really believe that we all live on different planes of experience — my split vision of the sunny side of the street versus rolling around in the mud comes to mind — and rather than try to convince others that our life reveals what we imagine, I just remain as positive and optimistic as I can. It’s who I am. It’s the life I choose to live. And no matter what, I will always be safe.