I used to know where I would go at the end of the day. I used to know who I would turn to in a struggle. I used to know what I wanted to do with my life. I used to know where I belonged.
But now I have no clue.
My parents would say I belong at home with them. I do, in one sense, but in another, I don’t think I do. And I don’t even know where home is anymore. Because home used to be a person for me. It used to be the arms that would wrap around me when I was scared, tired, joyful, or anywhere in between.
But those arms aren’t home anymore. And maybe that’s why I’m confused, but I think it runs deeper than that. I can’t think of a single time in my life, besides in those arms, that I’ve felt like I truly belonged.
Yes, I’ve felt comfortable, I’ve felt happy, but there’s a difference between feeling welcomed and belonging. Belonging means you were built to be there, you were formed in a way that you would fit wherever it is that you belong.
I can’t only belong there, because I am no longer welcome there.
But I don’t want to need to belong somewhere, I don’t want to force myself into a place I don’t belong. My family is a place that has always been comforting, they’ve been home and in a way they still are. But, I know there must be somewhere else I’m supposed to be.
How do I get there?
I’m not sure. And that’s what’s so awful. And that’s why I get scared. Because I want to belong somewhere again. There’s no better feeling than knowing where you feel so loved, knowing where you want to spend your time, knowing where you want to start and end the day.
But does it have to be a person where you belong? I’d like to think it doesn’t. Because I would like to be able to go to a different place than a person, whether it’s a church, a little shack on the Pacific coast, or wherever. I just know I crave a place to belong.
As an optimist, I think I’ll be able to tell when I reach that place. Maybe it’s the journey, like all of those motivational posters say, “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.” I hope when I get to the place, the person, the mindset, I can tell. I could tell before. I could tell it was where I belonged, but I screwed that up. I pray to God that one person doesn’t have just one place they belong in their life. Maybe one place they belong at one time and then they move on and belong somewhere else.
As an impatient girl, I am begging to find that place. And God is probably up there laughing at me, in a kind way, saying, “Megan, you’ll get there, I know where you’re supposed to be, but you just have to wait a little longer.”
Hey God, if you’re up there reading this on your iPad or whatever it is you use up there, could you give me more patience? Thanks pal.
The blessing I’ve taken away from all of my screw-ups is that now I know what belonging feels like. I know what love is, and I know that there’s a lot of different types of loves and levels, but I do know what it feels like within my heart.
If you love someone, you want them to be happy no matter what. No matter if you cause that happiness or not, you want them to be happy. And that can hurt like hell, knowing they’re happier without you, but there’s a bigger part of you that’s smiling because you love them and you want them to have joy.
But maybe I could love someone that I can keep and belong to? Maybe that’s asking too much. I just want to belong somewhere, and that definitely means I have to do more work. I need to get out there, find a shack, find something. It’s all about getting out into the world to be able to find that little niche.
I just hope it’s soon, because it seems like so many people have found where they belong for the rest of their lives, and God I want that so badly. Maybe I’ve already found that place, maybe I haven’t, I just need some guidance.
For now, all I know, is that I belong to myself. And hopefully for awhile, that’ll be good enough.