Spin Your Cocoon

When my husband and I moved to his hometown last fall, I experienced major culture shock. I haven’t quite adjusted yet, but it is getting easier.

I grew up near the woods—out in the country but just a few miles away a small city of around 27,000. When I went to college and then launched into my adult life, I lived in suburban areas. Grocery stores were just five minutes away. A variety of dinner options could be delivered. I worked with and lived near people of different races, cultures, and religions. When a public issue came to the surface, even if it didn’t directly touch me where I lived, it touched others that I knew and it affected my community. The national news coverage often presented information about issues that I had to learn to live with.

The Village

It’s different now. I live in a county with a population of less than 40,000. Our village has fewer than 600 residents and is surrounded by farm fields. We have a small community market that offers essentials but not much variety. We have three options for carryout meals: the American Legion, a tavern, and gas station pizza. The small clinic in town provides basic medical care, but specialists and tests are in the county seat, half an hour away with a population of not quite 12,000. For many medical procedures, we have to drive an hour or more to a regional facility. There’s one grocery store in the county seat, along with Walmart and a few restaurants. Over 91% of the county is Caucasian. In my village, it is nearly 99%.

I live in a cocoon.

In some ways, that’s good. With only 37 COVID-19 cases in the entire county and none in our village (and in our small village, you can be sure if someone had it, everyone else would know), I feel fairly protected. I try to mask and sanitize here, but I also know that if I don’t do a good job, I’m still likely to be fine. I know that if my father-in-law takes a walk and falls two blocks away, someone will call the house or come get me.

The cocoon has a downside, too, and that is the illusion that many of society’s negative characteristics don’t touch us here. The Black Lives Matter protests seem a world away from this community—yet that doesn’t mean racism doesn’t have a hold here. Crime also seems far away from us—yet sometimes things are stolen from yards, and we had a triple homicide Christmas morning.

I have been learning to appreciate the protective aspect of the cocoon. I tend to be a worrywart, and it’s nice to not have quite as much to worry myself about. There’s enough of a buffer that I have time to be thoughtful and intentional about most things.

As for the illusion that what’s out in the world doesn’t touch us here, I remind myself that it really is just an illusion. I choose to be vigilant by locking up. I seek opportunities to learn and grow in areas that don’t appear to touch me here. Growing and being more aware in one area will always lead to collateral growth that will have a more immediate and direct impact on my life.

Marriage as a Cocoon

A good marriage is a kind of cocoon, too.

During the years our marriage wasn’t good, I didn’t feel protected. I was always thinking about what my life was missing. Temptation was bombarding me from all around, and we absorbed many negative messages and influences. My husband and I both felt like we were walking on eggshells around each other, afraid that one misstep would prove a disaster for us. We didn’t even have the illusion of emotional safety with each other.

The changes I made as I was growing toward a better marriage felt a little like culture shock. Basic things that I’d always assumed or taken for granted had to be approached differently. I had to change my mindset and rethink the ways I responded to my husband. I had to learn to nourish our marriage in new ways.

I have often said that working on my sexual issues was one of the hardest things I ever did as well as one of the best. I didn’t know then that my effort was spinning a protective cocoon around me.

Our marriage is better now. Even in a pretty tough season, we know that if one of us falls, the other is there to help and to hold. My husband’s presence is a buffer that gives me time to be thoughtful and intentional about how I manage things.

The cocoon of our marriage also provides an illusion that what’s out there won’t touch us—but we know it can, so we are vigilant. When we notice that things aren’t great between us, we tighten up and work together to address those aspects of our relationship. I seek opportunities to learn and grow even in areas that don’t appear to be relevant to our marriage. When I grow in one area, I always see collateral growth in other areas as well. And I can continue to grow with less worry, because my marriage has made a safe place for me.

Spin Your Cocoon

In both my village life and my marriage, I have a safe place to pursue growth—and the more I grow, the more I feel confident and safe in continuing that growth.

And really, isn’t that the whole point of a cocoon anyway? To provide protection during a time of transformation and growth?

Are you ready to begin to spin a cocoon around your marriage?

Making changes in your marriage and your sex life can feel like culture shock at first. It may take a while for you to adjust, but it will get easier.

And you may just find that your efforts will spin a cocoon that gives you a protected place where you can transform and grow into the woman God has created you to be.

Image credit | canva.com