For several years now, I've been stalked by a creeping dark thing.
It began hiding in places I knew well. I would be in the middle of a crowd, and there it was, giving me a sly wink as if I was in on some sort of joke with it. Then it moved into my own home, especially when my now ex-husband was around. It chuckled in the corner, puffing on a nasty little cigar that stank up the room and burned my stinging nostrils. Finally, it moved deep inside of me, reaching into my empty spaces and stretching itself over my heart, no longer laughing, no longer attempting an evil grin. It found a home, and the joke had played itself out. It won, and the joke seemed to be on me.
Loneliness and alienation can be deadly entities. They slide into one's soul cavities like a gentle poison, or like a thunderous blow that explodes your heart. Sneaky, sly, malicious in their intent, they destroy self-esteem and pride, cast out happiness and the love of life. Depression is their side-effect, the steady creation of hopeless surrender and a sense of unlovability.
When I was a kid, I strove to be different. I wanted to stand out, be an individual, march to a beat that was unique and heard by only me. I enjoyed being a free thinker. I used to say that I had no desire to follow or lead; I would take the odd path and see things others were blind to. I read books that had uncommon viewpoints...they pushed me to reevaluate all that I had been taught by my elders and community. I played with concepts many would deem as heretical. I stretched my ideas to include many topics and interests, joyful with each new glimpse and glimmer that Universe awarded me. To learn, to grow, to expand was orgasmic. I was addicted, and I sought further fixes.
I outgrew my family. I outgrew my friends. I outgrew my boyfriends. I moved from my state of birth and found new cultural norms elsewhere. I moved yet again. Further and further from where I began, I would look back on occasion and say, hallelujah, I made it out. I'm no longer uneducated, narrow minded, stagnant. I'm free. Whoo hoo!
And then relationships became uncomfortable. I got bored. I was young, attractive, and though not a genius, I had a decent brain that behaved well. The world was my oyster. Why did I want to stay with only one person? Why did I want to sign up for a routine existence? I turned away from friends again, broke the hearts of lovers (one I particularly regret), and kept forging my own path. And I looked upon with disdain all those who couldn't see what I saw plainly. Snobby. Snarky. Ugly.
I am now very far removed. Life hit me with what I wanted. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis. I have so many food allergies that I eat powder ("medical food"...rice based protein nutrition) instead of real food. I can't stomach television with bad plots, scripts, and acting. My thoughts on food, politics, government and conspiracy theories, my sense of humor, my health...everything holds me outside of social belonging. I feel cast out and thrown away.
I've done it to myself. I had wanted this. I established no long term relationships. I kept no customs to share. And sadly, what I've become is painfully...ordinary. I accomplished nothing. Neither follower nor leader, I became a loser adrift in a rather boring way. What path have I really forged? Who did I really become? No one, that's who.
My depressed musings were inspired by a book I read for one of my classes. All Soul's: A Family Story from Southie, written by Michael Patrick MacDonald, brought me back to my childhood growing up in the Northeast. Though I wasn't from Boston, nor did I live in the Irish projects, there were some social norms that were very similar to my Irish/Polish upbringing in Connecticut. The author is only three years older than I, so I was able to place myself exactly in the same time frame with him, could picture all the funky clothes and bad hair, hear the same music pouring out of the windows of my neighbors. And I thought to myself again, with a sigh of relief, thank the Great Mystery that I made it out. Thank God I no longer have to hear that talk in those accents again. Thank YOU, most Divine, for arranging my get-away car.
But then I remembered something, as if in a dream: these people found home with each other. They wore a particular clothing style that identified themselves in their neighborhood. They marked themselves with a "Southie dot", a green dot tattooed on their wrist to show where they were from. They knew each other for many years, grew up together, and even old grudges were forgotten among them when they rallied together for the neighborhood's benefit. They stuck together, held each other's secrets, and were there for each other when times were tough.
This is the power of Community. Community gives one a sense of identity, of belonging, of safety. In a true community, one has a home.
I've lost my home. I walked away from it. And now I don't quite fit in anywhere anymore. I am an acquired taste and no one wants to try it.
What's a girl to do? How do I go back to what I was and begin again? How do I unlearn all I've learned so that I can choose mediocrity? I've ended up there, anyway...I'd rather be there surrounded by loved ones and a sense of home than completely alienated. Mediocre and alone is just plain pathetic. Sometimes I just feel stuck.
How do I find my home?
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