What makes you feel safe? Is it your cozy subdivision? The gates at your community entrance? Your giant Rottweiler? Or maybe your firearm?
I don’t feel safe. Nothing makes me feel safe. Not even being armed. I trust in the Lord, but I know that there is evil all around just waiting to attack. The Lord protects me, but the possibility for evil to attack is ever-present. Especially when so much of it lives so close.
I live in a “safe area”. The area isn’t declining. In fact, our property value has gone up in the last 8 years, despite the housing market decline. There is so much new growth, nice new homes being built. But it doesn’t matter how new or wealthy an area is, evil is everywhere. And right now, there’s too much not-good living way too close to home. There is no such thing as a “safe area”. Affluent areas are not impervious to crime.
Before I go any further, understand that I’m a pretty paranoid person by nature. It goes against every bone in my Type B body, but I’m hyper-aware and paranoid. I suppose it has to do with growing up in a high crime area. My husband does not have my fear, nor does he really understand it. It’s probably his estrogen deficiency. 😉
My mind has reeled through so many different scenarios and story lines. I can tell you my plan of action for dozens of different home invasion scenarios. Front door, back door, where the kids are in the house, where the weapons are, places to hide… I’ve thought this through. Because I don’t feel safe. Even having somewhat of an emergency plan doesn’t make me feel safe.
The biggest driving factor in everything I do right now is, “Will this enable us to buy a new home?”
I’d love a new home with a few hundred additional square feet, a bigger living room and even bigger kitchen. But the niceties are not my driving force. Safety is.
Tonight I was working after everyone went to bed and heard one of those things-that-go-bump-in-the-night. Immediately I was on guard.
I hate this fear!! Part of it is rational, considering some of the sketchy people that are squatting at a nearby home, but some of it isn’t. Once I calmed down, my first thought was, “I cannot wait to move.” But I had to correct myself. We aren’t much safer in a “safe neighborhood” than we are in our current home, which is also part of a “safe neighborhood”. Criminals are everywhere. Bad things can happen anywhere. Last week, a nearby CVS was robbed at gunpoint. Someone with a good arm could literally throw a baseball from the CVS parking lot and hit the police station. It’s within half a mile of one country club and about a mile from one of the most affluent country clubs in the area. This ain’t the ‘hood. Crime happens everywhere.
I don’t consider myself to be an overly-worried person. In my marriage, I’m the one that’s always telling my husband to trust in the Lord and not sweat the small stuff. But I worry about the safety and protection of my family. A lot. Too much.
Maybe I should get an alarm system? Would that somehow make me feel better? If I did, it’d have to be one of those Mack Daddy systems, not just a noisemaker.
So. The cat is out of the bag. We are moving. When? Don’t know. As soon as the Lord opens that path. Until then, I am working super hard to fully launch my business, finish my websites and give myself a raise. I’m tired of living with this fear. Tired of looking over my shoulder. I haven’t always been this way. I just want to regain my sense of safety. Recent events in our area have me on edge. I know that moving will help, but the reality is, I’ve got to dig into this fear, figure it out, and get rid of it, because NOWHERE on God’s green earth is safe from evil.
I’d love to wake up tomorrow with the safe, carefree spirit I used to have. I fear it won’t return.
I look forward to the day when posts like this are more geared toward sharing how I OVERCAME various deep-seated issues like this fear. But for now, I hope you enjoyed today’s journal … as much as you can enjoy something so depressing lol. But this is how I’m working through the feels. This is my little slice of the web that IS about me. You don’t have to like it. That’s not the point.