3/4 of an inch.  That’s all that separates me and the blizzard blowing outside.  I can hear the blustery winds and see the snow flying but I do it inside a room at a comfortable 70 degrees while I hear the wind roaring outside.  I can see and hear what’s going on outside but I’m not really experiencing it.  And I don’t want to.  Observing from as close as 3/4 of an inch is close enough.  All I would have to do to experience it is to flip the little latch and slide the door open, stepping outside to get the full effect, to say that I had actually experienced a blizzard.  But I won’t because the thought of it is too uncomfortable.

The act of flipping the latch and sliding the door is not difficult of course but it takes motivation to do it.  I am imagining what the results would be if I actually did it – the bitter cold of the wind, the sting of the snow, and of the unpleasantness that goes with it.  But the cold and sting also remind me of how very alive I am and gives me an appreciation for when I step back into the 70 degree living room afterwards.  Sometimes we need to experience the cold and sting – there is a REASON to experience them.

When the cold and sting come in the form of people, it’s easy to retreat into your cozy warm, “know what to expect” environment.  I’ve done it for years.  That fear and lack of comfort you felt from those people can make you wary of others for the rest of your life.  It makes you wary of investing time in them and emotion on them.  The devastating effects of a cold relationship can and will last a lifetime and so some of us put up that glass panel.  I can still see and hear you, but I stop at really feeling anything for you, even though I really want to.  It’s not a matter of being standoffish, it’s a matter of self-protection, a matter of survival.  What is it they say – hurt me once, shame on you, hurt me twice, shame on me?  When the cold and sting hurt you over and over again, the door closes and the motivation to flip that latch diminishes.  Until you meet someone who really loves you.

When you meet someone who brings sunshine and warm breezes, the motivation to try the latch reappears.  It doesn’t happen all at once because you know what has happened before when you slid the door open and the harsh wind slapped you in the face.  But little by little the sunshine beckons you to come out, to leave the place of comfort and try again.  And with enough time, you learn that sometimes the door briefly opens to harshness, but it’s not permanent.  You’ve been able to build up some healthy layers to face the cold and sting, knowing that the sunshine will return eventually.

I’ve received some incredibly kind, supportive responses to a recent blog concerning my childhood.  For many years, as much as I wanted to open the door, I kept it closed out of fear, even to those I wanted to be my friends.  I just couldn’t believe that anyone would really love or even like me and I couldn’t deal with the rejection.  But over the years I have opened the door, first to Doug and then to many kind friends who have become my family over the years.  There are still those days when I’m afraid to open the door – I am a work in progress – but so many of you shared rays of sunshine and warmth this week that I had to say thank you.  And I hope I do the same for you.