My dislike of mobility is actually personal

I have stated before that I do NOT like mobility. I think it is anti-social and detrimental to the health of humans. Once I am able to freely move outside of my neighborhood and return in time for lunch, my understanding of "community" gets so thin as to be worthless.

But it's personal. I have found (recently) that I long for people to know me (duh). But I have my own way of feeling "known." It's not just a bit of history together. It's knowing the reasons behind what I do, think, wonder, etc. So without traveling through life, time, and space with me . . . you'll never know me.

My life, as I see it, is like a rope: lots (hundreds?!?) of smaller strands making up a single rope. For me, it is not enough to see the rope. I long for people to know the strands.

During times of depression, I find that many strands get tangled. Especially emotional strands. It feels like few people know me well enough to know what strands would be tangled.

Strands. The fibers of my being, the threads of my life, the parts of me. I have become a bit more verbal with people I know a bit less these days because I feel unknown.

And that is probably the real reason I hate mobility: someone else cannot know my strands if they enter my house, my neighborhood, my life, every other week for a few hours in the name of "community."