I was at Barnes and Noble last week for a browse (can't buy anything there when there is a half-price book store down the street) and flipped through "Throw Out Fifty Things: Clear the Clutter, Find Your Life" by Gail Blanke. There was a chapter that caught my attention titled "Letting Go of Needing to Feel Secure." Really, I mused. What's so wrong with wanting to feel secure? Isn't it an almost instinctive quality within us?
Think about how some have been told to marry for security over love. Or even my parents urging me to change my college major from Music Therapy to basically anything else because they didn't think I'd find a job. Or if I did, it wouldn't pay the rent.
After losing my home, which provied me a tremenous amount of security and a sense of identity along with two husbands (ditto the security and identity) I think it would be questionable if I just threw up my hands and said, "Let life take me where it will. I'm ready for the ride!"
Somehow these losses have made me less open to the randomness of the future. I want to feel some level of security within my life be it a strong, loving relationship. solid home around me or decent job in which I feel valued and productive. I think when these things are lacking it is very difficult to feel content and "happy" in one's life. I guess I believe that there has to be a certain level of stability surrounding someone or all bets are off for personal happiness.
Maybe it is easier for people who have a decent level of structure and security already existing as a foundation to throw more caution to the wind. But I believe when your foundation has been shaken and you have lost what has been of value to you, that there is no harm in seeking what makes you feel secure. I am finding that as I continue this widowhood path, the more I seem to disagree with all the advice, like this, out there. I'm finding it all doesn't pass muster with what I have felt and experienced. As for this advice, no way am I going to give up on my search for attaining more security in my life.