The Mighty Oak

When restless, I start looking to make changes. Some for entertainment and others out of sheer necessity. My most recent is for the latter and to save my children from yet another splinter-filled summer. I've spent HOURS tearing the dilapidated deck off my house and rebuilding a new and greatly improved shade-quenching one for my sunburned outdoor space. The new house doesn't have a single tree planted to take roots. Far different from the mighty Oak at my previous house, there's not a a bit of shade here. It's all open and unprotected. I pondered this while hammering the 136 nails into boards on the deck rails one afternoon. Protection.... what an interesting word. Dictionary.com states it is: the act of protecting or the state of being protected; preservation from injury or harm.

I realize that while the old house was my old life, there are a few things I miss from it. I adored that great Oak tree outside my dining room windows. I miss the shade it would cast into the upstairs bedrooms. The greatest storms would roll through and that tree stood tall and never wavering. The roots were strong and I never worried about its vulnerability. While living there, I thought I was joined with someone that was my protection and security, if you will. The toughest acceptance was realizing my protector was the one that actually destroyed it and took trust and a plethora of other mind-calming traits with it. 

Moving to the new house on a treeless lot gave me the opportunity for a fresh, unscripted start. I could finally take a deep breath and no longer felt I had a cinder block restraining me. Although I never want him back and that life is long gone, sometimes it's difficult to rely only on myself. Sometimes it would be comforting to rest my head at night knowing someone else has my best interest in mind too. Security is something a single woman just doesn't feel. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being independent, going about my business, and setting my own path. But it would be nice for just one night to hand over my fears to someone else and know I'm not in this alone.

The reality is I've only recently recognized the damage another person can do. I felt like I made it through the worst storms. I'm out, the kids are out, we are better now but the verbal and emotional abuse of the last few years have taken their toll. When things aren't as EX would like, I can surely expect him to spew every offensive and demeaning thought he has. Then it's a barrage of disgusting, belittling texts until my phone reaches capacity. Dependent on his "cycling" this may continue for hours, even days sometimes. I used to make a joke of it but the reality is I would rather be punched in the face repeatedly than subject myself to his immeasurable tactics. At least I could visibly see the damage and recognize this is NOT okay. I would never openly give him the satisfaction of crumbling, but it's difficult at times. The protection that was once so comforting is now what creates my biggest vulnerability. 

Tonight, I sit on the new covered deck looking into the yard. It's full of kid toys, swingset, pool and yet it feels so empty. Protection and security are not things you can see, but what you feel. It's having faith that those strong roots will hold even the heaviest branches up during trying times. I'm sure my mighty Oak in New Albany is standing tall even after the worst storms. I'm still standing as well and someday I will be as tall again too. Until then, I'm planting a few trees in this barren yard and you can bet one will be a mighty Oak.