Belonging

The concept of belonging has been on my mind lately. As an individual. As a mom. As a wife. As a friend. It’s something I have struggled with often and was very much the main topic of my inner dialogue this weekend as I stomped through the woods for a few miles.

I was a shy kid. I was also tall for my age and an early bloomer physically. I preferred (and still do to a point) short hair and gender neutral clothing, which were both simply more practical for someone who was most comfortable out in the barn hanging out with the animals. By the end of my elementary school career, I had attended 6 different schools. (One of them for 2 different stints.) Often the new kid, my shy and nonconfrontational personality made me an easy target to be bullied. As did my almost complete lack of knowledge of anything “cool”. (As an adult that generally bites me in the ass when it comes to 80s pop culture trivia.) Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I never had friends as a young kid, it’s just that those friendships were often short lived. I am not one of those people who can sit and reminisce about early childhood memories with long time friends. Other than my family, I know nobody today with whom I shared those years of my life.

While I called the same community home from 6th grade through the end of high school, I can’t say that I ever truly felt like I had a solid sense of belonging through my teen years. I’m thankful for the friendships I formed during that time. I still keep in touch with some of those individuals today, thanks in large part because of the presence of social media. My closest group of friends from those years had themselves been classmates since Kindergarten. Their joint memories expand far beyond the years we’ve known each other. They grew up near each other and shared similar interests, which translated into the choices they made for activities once we hit high school. They were the band kids. (I didn’t know how to play an instrument. Still don’t.) The show choir kids. (It took me until my senior year, after many failed auditions, before I would join them.) The speech kids. (I quite speech after middle school because it conflicted with the high school basketball schedule.) I was (partially by choice, partially by STRONG encouragement from my dad) an athlete. (Except during the spring when I got to be a musical/theater kid with them!) And while some of my favorite high school memories involve my participation in sports, my teammates were rarely more than just that…teammates. I feel like I spent my teen years bouncing back and forth between 2 social circles, never fully a part of either.

The one constant in my life (until my parents divorced when I was 17) through all the moves was my immediate family. Moves often took us away from our extended family and, as is the case with many families, relationships between them and my parents were more complicated than I understood as a kid. I was fortunate to spend quite a bit of time with grandparents through the years when we weren’t separated by physical distance. What few memories I have of time shared with aunts, uncles, and cousins are generally joy filled, there just aren’t very many of them to call upon. I have not seen many of those family members in over 20 years.

I think in part because my constant circle of belonging had been small as a kid, I’ve found that my circle of belonging as an adult had also felt relatively small. My own little family, my husband and my girls, make up the center, ringed by a couple of long time college girlfriends, my mom and my brother. Beyond those two small inner circles, my sense of belonging has ebbed and flowed. Friends and co-workers have come and gone. Sometimes those ebbs and flows have happened smoothly. Sometimes I have fought them with every ounce of my being, grieving deeply the loss of relationships that for a brief time had been part of my inner circles.

The past few years of life has been full of change. Full of shifts in my sense of belonging. Some of that change has been a result of choices and direct actions I have taken, especially professionally. Some have simply been the result of time’s ability to turn one’s kids into independent young adults who themselves are finding their own sense of belonging in this big old world. My husband has his own communities in which he has found a sense of belonging through his coaching involvements and faith community. They are uniquely his given 1. I am not a coach (at least not in the eyes of the state) and 2. we have different faith beliefs. The people at the center of my sense of belonging don’t need my time and attention the way they once did, and honestly that has thrown me off balance a bit.

I have found myself with time to connect to my sense of belonging to myself more than any other time in life. In some ways, especially as an introvert who has no problem spending time alone with herself, I am completely content to foster my own sense of belonging to myself. As someone whose number one love language is acts of service, it’s a hard shift not to feel as needed as you once were. Humans are wired for connection. And even though this human can very easy slip into a place of comfort existing in her own little bubble of hermit hood (sometimes too easily), she still craves real, meaningful connections and communities in which she can find a sense of belonging. And right now, she’s feeling a little lonely. Invisible. Not quite grounded. Much like the shy, awkward, insecure new kid that will forever be a small part of who she is at her core.

Which brings me back to stomping around in the woods this weekend. Even though I am often alone on my hikes, I rarely feel lonely in nature. It’s where I feel I can best process thoughts and feelings with which I am struggling. It’s a safe place where I can let my emotions flow, and tears if need be. Nature helps me ground. Back into the here and now. Back into my body. Back into my own true being. Which is I think part of the reason hiking has become a significant interest, and some might say a growing obsession, over the past few years. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s in part because I have had more time to connect with my own sense of belonging to myself, and where I feel the most sense of belonging as of late has been on a trail with the crunch of gravel under my boots, the wind in my face, and the quiet sounds of nature all around me.

Basically what I’m trying to say here is I’m just over here Braving the Wilderness. Thanks Brene for writing a book to which I return again and again when I’m feeling ungrounded and that I have lost my sense of belonging. And for the reminder to always stay awkward, brave, and kind. (I have the awkward down to a fine art at this point in my life!)

Thanks for being here friend – Jenn