bubble

something which can only be described as "odd" happened to me this morning when i was checking my messages after a few days away.  i won't go into details, but it left me feeling a bit unsettled, not to mention creeped out.

i couldn't shake that disturbing feeling for much of the day, so it got me thinking about how i've lived in this protective bubble most of my life, shielded from all the "bad things."  my parents worked hard to provide me with shelter and comfort, to grow up in a nice house and good neighborhood, to attend award-winning schools and participate in activities that allowed me to develop my interests.  i was guided to college and supported through it (even when my parents disagreed with my decisions), given the confidence to obtain my first job and the next and so on, granted opportunities that not everyone has.  and yet, whenever something that feels unsafe happens, the air inside my bubble grows larger, so the lining of the bubble itself becomes thinner and thinner until it's essentially ready to pop. 

maybe this is what it's like to be an adult.  or maybe this balance, of wanting to feel protected but realizing that the world is, in fact, a scary place, is what holds the bubble together; keeps it afloat, keeps it from bursting.