Blockers Anonymous

Black earth.

Blue waves licking the shore.

An orange sun.

At the time, they had just created these devices called Happiness Maps.

With a click of a button, you could to see the exact kinds of people that were present within the commute or transit network of any geographic location.

They designed the maps to make life more peaceful, with less conflict.

With time, the Happiness Maps got so good that they could specify the best routes to take- and at what times- so that you never had to cross paths with any kind of person you chose.

Then, they added the ability to block, which meant you could update your settings to specify names of people, or types of people you never wanted to see again, and the system would always only lead you along the paths to avoid them.

So awkward encounters with exes or friends you never wanted to see again became outdated.

These personalized routes were called Rainbow Routes.

They became the only way to get around.

Musical ear chips.

Satellite silence.

Indoor wall padding that allowed you to recreate any sonic environment so that you never had to leave.

But we still met people.

And we still courted.

With our paths and destinations so carefully selected, and at our fingertips, how could we not?

So when I met him, along my commute to work, I was sure that there was no way that we could be anything but perfect for one another.

But, too many “perfect” people made alternatives so easily available that eventually he left me.

And then added me to the list of people he never wanted to see again- his blocked list.

After that, I dated person

After person

After person.

And after each person,

got numerous people to add to my blocked list.

I became quite good at that.

And proud of it, for some reason.

Until eventually the Happiness Maps sent me a notification saying that the only place I would find the kind of people I wanted to see was if I moved to a small island off the coast of Mombasa.

Which I did.

I guess this seems like an appropriate time to say:

“Hi. My name is Joy and I am a Blockaholic.”

I’ve been in recovery for three years.

After the move, I hardly left my house.

I felt afraid to leave because I wondered what would happen if I blocked anyone else on this already remote island.

If there were absolutely no more Rainbow Routes to take.

It would mean that I would be completely alone, for good.

The only person left in a world I had created for myself.

I was happy when I learned that I was not the only one with this addiction though. There’s an old lady who lived next door, Dora.

She had these large round glasses and the gentlest voice I had ever heard.

Every day she knocked on my door, to say hello, and each time I did not answer.

And then one day she slipped a piece of paper with the details about this support group under my door.

That still stands as one of the most loving things anyone has ever done for me, especially because I had made such a deliberate effort to block everyone out.

When I finally left my house to come for my first meeting, I went to her door first, to thank her.

It turned out she had passed away the night before.

Dora is a part of who I am today.

That love she showed me, by caring for me without the knowledge of who I was or why I was there, sparked the start of my recovery.

It’s what’s kept me going.

Dora taught me that:

The differences among us, that the Happiness Maps allowed us to avoid, are what make life interesting; meaningful.

She taught to love strangers. That love is a gift that we can chose to give and give freely, even though the giving of that love can sometimes hurt.

She taught me to keep trying.

And that although we may never know it, the love we give could end up changing someones’ life.

Thanks for reading.

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