Tuesday, 21 May 2013

secret: the art of fitting in/the art of belonging

I'm realizing that I've spent a lot of my life waiting to feel as though I fit in, acutely aware of the fact I didn't feel that way. 

I grew up on a farm but never wanted to be a farmer. I was a girl growing into a woman but could never get my makeup right, my hair from getting frizzy, could never fit into the pants that were in fashion. I mean, I still don't- I'm not made for pants.

I'm intelligent but I've never felt particularly smart, I'm musical but have never mastered an instrument, I'm creative but rarely feel sure about sharing my work. 

I'm acutely aware of what needs improvement, but not so quick to brag. Occasionally I will, or at least act to draw attention to myself. It gets boring constantly telling yourself that nobody notices you. And I don't necessarily always believe it. 

I am happier being the girl who has a serious boyfriend or is single and waiting for someone worthy to come along- I'm not a one-night kind of person and while sometimes I wish I was, ultimately it's not my style. 

I don't fit into a pick-up scene, boys don't tend to chat me up in bars and I don't think it's because I'm hideously ugly, I just think I don't put out the signals that you need for the required attention. 

Despite this list of social failings, occasionally, I have moments when I know exactly where I belong. These are the satisfying moments where I write something that people like reading, or I get a letter in the mail from a close friend, or sometimes it's just one of the many moments alone where I'm completely comfortable in my own company. I do better on my own, when I'm happy about it. Which I mostly am.

The thing I hold onto is the moment I have now and then, when I'm just struck by the feeling of being home. I felt it today, at work, halfway through some data entry, pumping some music from a friends band. I feel it when I get out to mums house and her dogs are so excited to see me that they howl a little. 

I got it on the weekend when I made the bed at my new place and I realised I was one step further away from the memories of being one half of a whole (couple). I realised that I might eventually be a whole on my own, all of the time instead of just some of the time. 

I'm realizing that life, for me, is going to be a search for those moments. I'm going to have to make peace with the fact that I'll spend a lot of time compensating for the fact I don't feel as though I fit in. 

The best part of all this angst, because that's what it is, is realizing that it's not something unique to me. I know very few people without doubts, especially at the ripe old age of 27. So I'm reasonably normal. 

Except for the addiction to wasabi peas and the recent interest in both mills & boon and Kurt Vonnegut. Maybe I'll call it research for a best-seller. Something with some middle ground. 

You out there reading, you're not strangers, you're my friends. You're probably my friends because you're a bit awesome and have some quality I wish that I had more of. Thanks for being there for me to write to. Sorry for the confessional crap I've been posting of late, and the silly pictures. I love writing always, but I'm discovering that I also love writing when I have an audience.

Thanks for reading. 

Here's another silly picture for good measure: 

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