I live in a safe town in a relatively safe house where I know at least some of my neighbors are safe people. But I live next to a downtown area and a small pocket of poverty, which sometimes feels unsafe. A single wall and 2-lane road divides my house from the beginning of what feels unsafe to me, though the actual pocket of poverty is a 1/2 mile away.

I am walking my dog in the dark tonight and have felt jumpy all day. Every unexpected sound — the grumpy old man yelling at his dog to stop barking, the engines revving, the “fuck him/her/this/that” flying out of a chronic yeller roaming his front porch—startled me. The smell of marijuana. The beer cans and syringes along the canal. The rest of the trash in the streets, that I try to pick up as often as possible. I realize I’m not breathing and clenching my jaw so hard it’s frozen that way.

It doesn’t matter that in college I carried mace to and from my night classes because I lived in a high-crime area. My boyfriend at the time was robbed at gun point, blocks away from my apartment. It doesn’t matter that I’ve walked alone at night in countries I didn’t speak the language. That I frequently rode the DC metro drunk in early morning hours. That I got lost in Barcelona after public transportation had shut down, and walked aimlessly for hours until I found my way back—I almost saw the sunrise. I wasn’t scared then. That I’ve run home drunk, run late at night, run way too early in the morning, run around people passed out, homeless, strung out, whatever—I needed to run. I was invincible. I had every wall up, always.

It feels like my body has decided to be afraid now for everything then, and I can barely breathe.

2 thoughts on “Unsafe

  1. I haven’t ran for two days and everything is screaming in me that I NEED it. I know what it does to my body, I’m aware of the damage, and yet….
    I just don’t get it. I see, or rather, I’ll FaceTime with my nutritionist on Monday and ask for at least a small amount. He’ll tell me it’s killing me, same thing every week, grrr. I’ll ask him why, after all this time, I still want to.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to Feeding The Good Wolf Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s