An Isolationist’s Confession
I have to admit that I am somewhat of an isolationist. Although I don’t mean this in the sense of the political definition of the word, which is to separate one’s self to focus on a country’s own interests and avoid entanglements that would jeopardize peace, it seems to apply on a small scale to my life. When things become difficult, I have always found myself pursuing peace (usually my own and that of my family—i.e. my “country”) at all costs. Conflict is so repulsive to me that I avoid it studiously, often to my own detriment. I pull back into my own “country” (my family) and focus on our health and well-being until all is right again with my little world. When the problem is inside my little world and it cannot be easily fixed, I find that it rocks me to the core. Then isolationism becomes my modus operandi. I find myself compelled (or at least longing severely) to withdraw from the conflict and the swirling emotions. It is interesting to me that as I had this thought, as I often