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Remember from your childhood all those stories about that man or woman “who lives right over there?” That person you knew from experience - yours or others - to avoid at all costs. Those stories varied from a witch, to scary dude, to mean as a junk yard dog.
Yeah, me too. And my kid imagination took off with wings that carried me to thoughts of murders and kidnapping. Silly child, you say? Absolutely, but you couldn’t convince me of that back then.
Every neighborhood seems to have its own ‘that one.’ The person that kids either scramble past in a panic, or tease each other about ringing their doorbell and then running. Or, the neighborhood bullies just delight in torturing and taunting. Very rare is the kid who does none of those. Or any adults for that matter. Who deliberately invade the space of the neighborhood wonky, and with fear and trembling, attempt to get to know him. To maybe find out why he has such a reputation.
Two things I would bet, if you were standing in front of me and ready to match wagers.
First; your neighborhood Witchy Wanda or Raging Bull Bill suffered a severe trauma in life and was never able to move on. Just lives with the pain, believing they can’t ever function normally again. Second; that person is desperately lonely, underneath that fake exterior of toughness and nastiness.
How in the world does that happen to a person? How do you become the one that even the dogs and cats give a wide berth? You have had more severe trauma than anyone else in this life? Own a personality that is incapable of handling hard things and caved under the pressure? Or by just pure choice?
Here’s my thought.
Severe trauma is going to happen at some point in life to all of us. At that point you are faced with an agonizing choice. Usually goes like this. Your path ahead contains Pain – Sadness - Anger …. then you approach a crossroads. One fork is marked Acceptance – Moving On. The other split holds Depression – Bitterness – Loneliness – possible Paranoia.
That last path invariably gets you known as “that person in our neighborhood.”
Obviously, the best path is to decide to find a great big burn barrel. Dump all your hurt,
mistakes, fears, and your anger into that thing. Light it up and then walk away, determined to live. Then pursue people to love, work to invest into, and laughter wherever you can find it.
How? By living in gratitude. Stubbornly deciding to mimic old Job, “Though He slay me, yet will I praise Him.”
But granted, you can decide to hold onto your pain forever. You can build a huge insulated closet to store it all for the rest of your life. So that you can open that closet door daily, step inside, and review every box in that dark, dreary place.
Your painful choice, and you would be smart to choose carefully and wisely.
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