Have you ever felt as though you just don’t seem to belong anywhere? My whole life I’ve always carried around this feeling that I just don’t fit, that something isn’t right, that I don’t belong.
I have this great-big family, filled with all sorts of different characters and personalities. When I say ‘great-big’, I really mean it. I have four siblings, my parents each have 6 and 7 siblings, I’ve got something like 45 cousins at this point. There’s family everywhere. And amongst all of the different personalities and characters that exist within my family, I’ve never really fit.
I’ve tried. Don’t get me wrong, I have really, genuinely, completely made an effort. I just don’t think they understand me. I don’t think they want to understand me.
When I graduated from University, I made myself a promise that I was going to do things for myself for a change. Instead of putting my family first, I was going to put myself first. And I did that. For many years. I liked it. And though I never really felt like I found home during that time, I was content with the understanding that I was living life for me.
Lately I’ve been coming to the realization that home is where the heart is. Whether it be a dingy, overpacked hotel room, a dusty old apartment, or the basement bedroom someone else’s home, if that is where your heart is, that is where your home is.
I can say for certain that my heart is definitely not in this room right now. Nor do I think it will ever be.
I got in a disagreement with my mother today. Which makes sense. We’ve been around each other for 24 hours, so it was bound to happen eventually. I just… as much as I know she has the best of intentions, she’s never really taken the time to get to know me. So we butt heads quite frequently. I’m trying to be sensitive to what she’s going through, but, it’s hard. It’s so hard. And that almost makes me feel worse. I just feel as though I can’t win. She has this expectation that I’m going to be the doting daughter, and I’m not that. I’m not that at all and I never have been. The more I continue to fail at being that, the more I’ll disappoint her and myself in the process.
My heart isn’t here. My heart doesn’t want to be here.
And, as I begin this total reinvention of ones’ self, I can’t help but think that I’m doing this all wrong. Why am I here? I left my heart in a million pieces along the way and I’m scrambling to figure out where to go next or what to do.
I love my mom dearly. She’s an incredible woman and a warrior. I love my whole family dearly. I do. But I don’t belong here. And I know the longer that I stay here the more that it’s going to eat away at my soul. I want to go home. And that’s so sad because I don’t even know what home is anymore.