Believe it or not, I haven’t always found the country beautiful.

Blog: Confessions of a former agoraphobicThe wide open spaces of this place used to make me feel twinges of agoraphobia (the opposite of claustrophobic). I feared the wide open spaces.

I still remember my first few drives out to Smalltown to visit the Dairy Man when we were dating. I would feel twinges of panic as sidewalks and Starbucks were replaced by cornfields and endless country roads. The openness crushed me. I felt unmoored and lost.

While DM marveled at a beautiful starry sky, I couldn’t stop looking around for streetlights.

Blog: Confessions of a former agoraphobic

It was like being on an alien planet a million miles from earth. But instead of extraterrestrial life, I was surrounded by cows and F-150s.

I desperately missed the city. I felt most at home when surrounded by tall buildings, a crush of humanity, and the perpetual cacophony of traffic. I preferred my experiences with nature to be within walking distance of a tapas restaurant or the John Hancock Center.

Blog: Confessions of a former agoraphobic

I’m still getting used to life out in the boonies. The difference three years makes, however, is that I’m starting to see the beauty.

We had a brief thunderstorm this week. After the noise (including the incessant whining of one very high-strung border collie) died down and the rain puttered out, I took a look out our front window and my breath caught in my throat.

Blog: Confessions of a former agoraphobic

Let’s face it, people. Skies like this don’t happen very often between apartment buildings.

Blog: Confessions of a former agoraphobic

I finally appreciate the beauty of this rural wilderness. Here, I can be quiet, deliberate, and still. With skies this big, it’s impossible not to feel closer to heaven.

I miss the bustle of the urban jungle, but this country is home.

Blog: Confessions of a former agoraphobic

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