Fear of being rooted

After two years trekking through various countries and taking on projects alone,  I’m finding the most difficult journey to be exploring vulnerability with another. I am now settled in one place for a chance at something deeper. Areas of myself which I thought were unchanging are now malleable. Somewhat of a rebirth - shedding what no longer serves me, absorbing what is sweet.

I’m learning about the protectors I’d built for strength and capability while being alone, and the parts of me to be chiseled down, refined for a fighting chance to share life with a partner. This rebuild has been wildly uncomfortable for me, with a reflex to fall back into drifting. When exploring the world, I am undercover, subdued, and an observer. I feel quite comfortable in this zone; the people I meet are passing ships in the night. How tempting it is to retreat into this comfort zone, filling my time with novelty once again, where the allure of newness overshadows the absence of depth.

Conflicting emotions have been prompting me to reflect deeply, driving an effort to uncover root causes of my limitations. Why is it that I fear companionship arguably more than physical danger? Part of me thinks it’s because I can stomach dying over loss of self. Dramatic, sure, but not entirely untrue. So what’s the big fear? 

My fear in vulnerability is feeling trapped with another, not by their doing but of my own, a cycle where my concern is greater for the other than for myself, drowning in a sense of lost independence, a disgusting grip for control, morphing into someone I despise, and last but certainly not least, the deeply ingrained fear of rejection—shocker. 

I believe that naming our fears diminishes their power over us. Awareness alone begins to dismantle phobia, even if only partially—so I’m willing to embrace that by cracking the door open, letting the breeze in a little, maybe even stepping into the sun. If a storm comes, the option to venture back inside will be available, but we can never experience the sun’s warmth by hiding in a dark room. Expressing how we feel doesn’t make us weak, but stronger in our ability to speak from the soul and arrive in authenticity. 

For better or for worse, there is a constant simmer in me, a hunger for growth and insight. I've come to realize that comfort doesn't always align with what's right for me, and safety doesn't typically come with ease. In Central America, I was comfortable with only a backpack, sleeping on a bench. Is this safe? In the present, I feel safe to express, wrapped in the arms of my lover. Is this comfortable? 

Our trials are as unique as we are; what proves as a challenge to one may be a breeze for another. We all have our weak points, and each stage of life opens us to healing old wounds, adjusting our perspective, and integrating new practice. My time is now best spent staying in one place, as being rooted here teaches me more than I had been learning on the road—just as the road once taught me far more than my life did while I was static. There are seasons for everything, and I am learning to lean into the next truth as it arrives.

My fears and experiences may not align perfectly with yours, but I hope they offer reassurance and serve as a reminder that you are not alone. We are living different variations of the same patterns, those who recognize the cycles may evolve.

Thank you for reading. I wish you well— that you serve as a light, heal what has captured you, and expand for greater purpose.