Safe and Unsafe

Everything I do, or everything I do normally, is concentrated on making me feel safe.  Really, that is what I’m motivated by most of the time, finding the unsafe items and situations and making them better.  It’s why I am obsessed with things like checking locks, and why I’m unsettled when a door is found to be unlocked.  I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been unlocked, and how it managed to get by my other checks. It’s why I am not a fan of being in large groups of people, because I don’t know exactly who or what is coming into contact with me.  It’s why I am stubbornly untrusting of restaurants I have never been to before, sure that something there is going to make me sick.  I just want to make it to tomorrow morning as un-diseased, un-maimed, and undead as I was when I woke up this morning.

And yet, I am attracted to a plethora of things that are not safe.  On the list of places I want to live, several are known for having high crime rates.  Two items listed on my bucket list are bungee jumping and sky diving.  I have been the first to jump into a dark unknown body of water in the middle of the night, for the fun of it.  And every time I get in a car, I am tempted to see just how face I can make it go—once, on a particularly boring long drive, I indulged in that impulse.

It’s a balancing act, I guess. Trying to find that fine line between responsible, safe, and protected, and wild, free, and enjoying what life gives you.  I tend to lean and tilt which ever what the wind blows on any given day. I just hope that when I eventually fall to one side of the other, I’ll be happy with where I end up.

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