Security

I remember the first time my sense of security was actually truly rattled. I was in elementary school and I walked in on my parents talking - my mom was in tears and I heard her say, "Sure, but not in my own backyard!" They were reading the newspaper.

I snuck back to the stash of papers later on and tried to read about something that happened on my street. But as I found no article or police log with my address on it, thought it best to just drop it.

But it stuck with me.
Am I really safe? If not, can my parents really protect me? They're not actually superhuman, after all.

The next time my security blanket pealed away like an onion was when I got my driver's license. I considered myself a good driver and hitting the road still carried with it the sense of freedom every 16 year old feels. But it was also the first time I ever felt truly alone. I remember thinking "I could die in this car, alone." The thought didn't terrify me or keep me up at night, but it made me aware that as long as I was driving, there was no one else taking responsibility for my well being.

And then I went to college. Aside from junior high, I would consider college the most insecure time in my life. It's not just about body image, it's about what's next? what matters? who am I? who do i want to be? is it too late to be that person? will people love that person? I could go on...

Up until I graduated from college, I felt like life was a process of peeling away all the layers of security I thought I had since birth. Everything from giving up the Linus blanket to dad telling me to "deal with it yourself" after my first speeding ticket. Life is about learning to deal, make it on your own, work it out.

Post college, I stepped up.
I got a job. Take that, security-robbers. I have a paycheck.
I had friends. Booya. People love me.
I got a husband. Even better. He promised to love me forever. Now that's security.
And a house - a roof, a yard, neighbors - they're all mine and they're there to prove I matter.

I was wrong.
Security is none of these.
It's not parents, or husbands, or people for that matter. It's not status or belongings. It's not even blankies with silk on the edges.
It's faith.
It's confidence that things are under control because I am not in control.
The rest of that crap is just smoke and mirrors.
And I was right about the peeling away part - that stuff all has to go so we can see security.
And security doesn't mean being sure of tangible things at all. It's a lot scarier than that.
But it's much, much more real.