Loving from the other side of the door

My niece Mahalia has a neighbor cat whom she adores.  Unfortunately, the cat doesn't adore kids and has bitten Mahalia three times.  Mahalia has pronounced that the cat says she's sorry and won't do it again.  Mahalia has forgiven the cat, so they should open the door and let the cat in to visit.  My sister wisely said no.  Mahalia pleaded saying that she loves the cat and wants it to come in.  My sister wisely stated, "We can love the cat from the other side of the door."

In my family love and trust and intimacy and safety were all one pile.  If we loved, we trusted.  If we longed to be close, we were safe.  Unfortunately, the pedophiles and critical abusers of the world are like the biting cats and nobody closed the door, not even me.  In fact, in so many ways, I was like Mahalia, hurting but ever so hopeful.

My sitter last Friday stood us up.  We were going dancing, Tim went to pick her up, and she wasn't there.  No call, no note.  I emailed her that night and she just today, seven days later, replied saying how sorry she was.  And irrationally, since my top sitter wasn't available for some upcoming dates, I found myself wanting to book her again.  I stopped myself.  She didn't mean to be irresponsible but she was.  She didn't mean to wreck my evening but she did. So I emailed another teen who had indicated an interest in babysitting and I'll try another after that.  I'm done asking my old sitter for at least a year.  She's young and might mature.  I'll try her again next spring but not before.

I used to think that I had to be angry with people to get away from the hurt and I expended a lot of energy being mad and a lot more energy ping-ponging back and forth between intimate fondness and angry distance.  Anger drains me and dislike connects me to them in a powerfully unhappy way.

Now I'm finding that I don't need to be mad to be safe and I can be fond from a distance.  I can love them from the other side of the door and that makes all the difference.