To begin, I want to say I know it’s been a minute since I wrote anything. I have been incredibly busy. My husband and I moved recently, and I’ve been very overwhelmed with school. Not to mention my son recently began preschool. So, thank you for bearing with me, and I hope you enjoy my post.
What does that even mean? For so much of my life, I have been trying to find a place I belong. And, to me, it seems that each and every time I find a place something happens to prevent me from truly feeling “at home.”
There are four times that I remember feeling not at home.
The first is the time I stayed in Ohio while my Mother and family moved to Nebraska. She moved for personal reasons, but I couldn’t go, not because of my mom, but because I didn’t want to. It was the summer between my junior and senior of high school. I couldn’t start over, making new friends is already hard, even more so so late in the game. I was also very involved in my high school band; I had worked so hard, and it was finally my senior year, I wouldn’t throw that away. And so I stayed in Ohio. First with a family friend, for whom I will be eternally grateful. Then with my grandparents, bless them, and finally with a boyfriend.
The second time I felt “homeless” was while in the Army. I felt alone, sad, and out of place. AIT and Basic were difficult for me; I struggled with many things, ultimately I made it through, but it was a bumpy ride. I remember being in a terrible place, I was constantly depressed, and I always felt like an outsider. I don’t make friends easily; I’m not sure why that is, but even today it remains true. I am incredibly thankful for the friends I did make, I consider them family even though we don’t see each other often. Aside from the few people I bonded with, I felt so alone. This was a particularly dark time in my life for me. I struggled the whole time.
Another time I felt this way was when my husband and I were in Germany. Being in a foreign country was one of the hardest things we have ever done. While there we felt lost. We had each other, and some friends who we came to consider family, but it definitely wasn’t home. I struggled with depression the entire time we were there. Aside from the perpetual gloom that is the German sky I also found myself depressed because I was so far from my idea of home. I missed my family dearly, and it was difficult being in such a different time zone. When we were awake, our Stateside family was asleep. The Army also made things worse, so many things they do just don’t make any sense, and I was constantly in conflict with what made sense to me, and what make “Army Sense.”
Now, here in the South, I find myself far away from my family again. It’s easier because we don’t have to travel near as far, and our time zones are much closer, but I still feel very removed. And I don’t have friends. Like I said before, I’m not good at making friends for whatever reason, and I’ve found it much harder to make them here than anywhere I’ve ever been before. I think that mostly is because I don’t have much in common with people here. Anyone, for the most part, that I am friendly with is because of my husband. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy his friends and their partners, but I don’t feel as connected to them as I would like. They all have years of past experiences to link them together; I feel like an outsider. And making friends at University is a joke. I feel so old compared to these students. Not only that, but I also know I am in a much different stage than many of them too. I have a husband and child, whereas most of the students aren’t even old enough to partake in adult beverages.
I believe wholly that “home” is where the heart is AND where your family and friends are.
I think that’s what makes it so difficult for me, my heart is with my son and husband, but my friends and the rest of my family are not here. And that makes me morose.
I pray daily that once I get my degree and license and begin working that I will make some friends. I know the medical field is the place for me, and I also know that those currently working in the medical field are my kindred spirits. We’re all a little messed up.
I know home is near, I just have to keep moving towards it. Soon enough I will have friends here; I know it. And I will always have my family, even if they’re not living right next door.
If you happen to be in a similar situation, don’t fret. It will get better. I know first hand how difficult it can be to feel misplaced. It’s hard, but it isn’t permanent. Eventually, we will move on to a new stage of life, and we will find our home.