My mind is still kinda foggy and weird these days. I’m still all kinds of tired. My brother suggested I might want to get a sleep study done, and I’m considering that, but I think I might need a referral to do that. Someone else suggested I might try to find a holistic doctor. I’m just trying to figure out why I’m so freaking tired all of the time. My next doctor’s appointment is in August, and right now, I’m not happy about my new doctor. But I’ll give her a chance… I mean, maybe we just got off on the wrong foot. I dunno. We’ll see. Right now, I’ve recovering from taking a shower. Who needs to recover from taking a shower? This person. Me. That’s who.
And it kinda sucks.
But I’m not gonna spend this bit of energy that I have bitching about how much energy I don’t have. Ha!
So today’s prompt is sanctuary as in a safe haven from the ills and trouble and dangers of the outside world (modern day usage). I think that many people misunderstand this word and what it entails. They believe that this is meant to be a permanent “safe place” they can go to again and again or a permanent haven they can build that will never be influence by the outside world. I’m pretty sure this is why people are often shocked and betrayed when their “safe place” is breached and the world comes pouring in. I can almost guarantee that’s why people get angry, nay, enraged when they feel that someone has “violated” their sanctuary — even when that “violation” was an innocuous trespass in a public area. But people feel that they have a right to their “safe space” and that the world must respect those spaces and treat them as sacred… for as long as the person claims them to be “safe” or forever if necessary. And I say… what a load of hooey. Sanctuaries, as everything in this world, are temporary. Even the mightiest of churches (classically known sanctuaries because of the original meaning) will crumble and fall to dust eventually. All a sanctuary is, be it a building of stone or a grove of trees, is a roost where someone can stop, rest, take stock of what they have and relax before they have to face the harsh realities that are the outside world again. Because, like it or not, we will all have to face the outside world again.
But people want to cling to the idea that they can come back to their roost, that they can recharge in their “safe spot” without anyone or any thing intruding there. They want to build walls — real or virtual to keep the world out. They have this idea of permanence that gives them a sense of security. The problem is… everything is temporary in nature. Even this hunk of rock that we call Earth will eventually die. I think this idea that there is permanence in the world is what makes people so angry that their safe haven isn’t safe any more. They think that things will last forever when forever simply isn’t possible. Safe havens are, by design, meant to be temporary. Sure, no one wants to leave this great place that they built for themselves to keep the world out, but one cannot live in a sanctuary, and — like it or not — there’s no wall tall enough or thick enough to keep the evils of the world away. It simply can’t be done. Utopia is an unreachable ideal — even if it’s a Utopia of one.
So, personally, I have this crumbling down manufactured home that the hubs and I bought a little over a year ago. It sits on 2.5 acres of land. Eventually, if I can figure out what’s wrong with me and fix it, I want to have goats, ducks, and chickens — a small farm essentially. But right now, it’s just a crumbly manufactured home on overgrown land. But you know what? It keeps the real world out for the most part. As my health has progressively failed on me, I’ve kept more and more to myself. It’s gotten to the point where I’m almost — phobic — about going out into the really real world. I might could go out to the store, but I could also just order from Amazon for just about anything too. Amazon makes being agoraphobic a lot easier. ^_^ And no, I’m not throwing that term about lightly, sometimes — most of the time — the thought of going out there makes me have some serious anxiety. Mostly because I’m afraid that I’ll have some kind of health episode (can’t breath, get dizzy, knee goes out, pick one I’ve imagined it) and I won’t be able to get home or… something. I also have this fear that I’ll have a health episode and that people will be — spectacularly unhelpful or even mean, about it because of all of the weight I’ve put on. It’s like people see “fat” and think that I must be having problems because I’m overweight, and not visa versa. And so, I stay home because I don’t want to be caught out there in a bad situation with no help available. Weird, right? It’s difficult to explain. I keep trying to convince my mind that a) I won’t have a health episode and b) people really aren’t that mean — well, not all of them. But it won’t listen to me. Logic has no place when it comes to phobias.
So anyway, this little falling down house has become my sanctuary. But I know, because it is falling down around us — bit by bit, that it is temporary at best. I know also that if I want my little farm that I will eventually have to get out of the house and into the really real world and make friends locally, because farms don’t run themselves. And I sure as heck can’t run a farm by myself, even a small one. But for now, it’s baby steps and yeah… this place is my sanctuary. I knew it the moment I walked in the door that first open house we came to. But I know it’s a temporary respite. That’s why even though I’m pausing here to gather strength for the next phase of my life, we’re also taking steps to prepare for the next phase of our lives. Sanctuary isn’t just a place to sleep, eat, and be safe for a while. It’s also a place to plan and get ready to move on. And that’s what I’m doing.