I'm sitting on the floor again. I have chairs in my new place. I found them on the side of the road with a piece of cardboard that had 'free' scribbled across it. But, I still wanted to sit on the floor. I wanted to connect with the Lisa that wrote this post. And I still don't have a bed, so I slept here last night. I also say it to stress that the adventure that I've put myself through is not always glamorous.
I've gotten to take amazing pictures. I've seen breath taking landscapes. Just about everywhere that I drove past Chicago I had to actively remind myself- 'hey, you've never been here or seen this before, how cool is that'. I've gotten so used to being in a new setting that it has become almost normal. Almost. During my stint in San Francisco I was reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and she describes so elegantly 'The Physics of The Quest':
“I've come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call "The Physics of The Quest" — a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity or momentum. And the rule of Quest Physics maybe goes like this: "If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared – most of all – to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself... then truth will not be withheld from you." Or so I've come to believe.”
Liz and I speak the same language. 'Everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue', 'everyone you meet along the way as a teacher'. Now, I don't have time to go into details about each one of the lessons that I've learned along the way. My car breaking down in the middle of the Utah dessert with the tornado sirens going off is a lesson that I'm putting on the shelf under the 'done' category. The cleaner at the hotel talking to me about the inherent goodness of people has been dog eared for the times that I'm questioning that. And sleeping outside under the Washington stars served to remind me that we're all just spinning on a big rock. Just to describe a few.
The first time that I returned to Burlington after moving out of my apartment was to go to a show with my friend Sarah. I was driving through downtown, knew exactly where I was going, had been there not even 2 days prior, yet still felt like I didn't belong anymore. As soon as I showed up to her place I was hysterical.
"Sarah! I already feel like I don't belong hereee.." I whined.
"Calm down," she replied. "Of course you belong here, here- drink this and let's go see some funk music."
[paraphrased] <3
And that was all it took. Little did I know this was the first clue I was getting in the lesson that has since, ushered me across the entire country.
We have an animal instinct to fit in. We can't help it. It served us to be pack animals during critical evolutionary moments. If we fit in with the tribe, we got fed, a cave to sleep in, and a partner assigned to us. Life was good. Our animal instincts still serve us. Life is challenging, it helps if we have someone on our side and being atypical draws attention. My therapist once told me that our brains can only do three things: analyze, compute, and compare. I suspect we max out the compare mechanisms when we reach for an attempt at fitting it. Wherever I ended up, whatever town I pulled into for the night, I would catch myself scanning the people around me and seeking to morph. I would even dream up back stories for the person in the campsite next to mine in order to create some common ground and a sense of safety. *If it's ok for them to be here, then it's safe and ok for me to be here too*, I would convince myself. But then I noticed something else. I would play out possible conversations with these people and I could feel the tiniest little part of me wanting to lie. Not astronomical ones, just little white lies to make it seem like I was a local, or at least like I knew what I was doing. I couldn't help it... and I'm blaming evolution. Then, somewhere between Mammoth Lakes and San Francisco, I remembered my trip to Panama in January. Flipping through my journal I scanned the section on what I'm working on releasing from 2017. The idea that my story isn't worth telling, I had written. And from there something changed.
Brene Brown helped me through this section with her quotes on the difference between 'fitting in' and 'belonging':
"The greatest barrier to belonging is fitting in"
"Fitting in is assessing a situation and becoming who are need to be, to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand, doesn't require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are."
And, where I realized this longing to belong came from was the idea that I wasn't ____ enough. And for who? The townspeople of Whatever Town, USA?
Only until we realize where that story comes from, can we start to rewrite that narrative. And I had gotten pretty over the idea that this narrative; that I wasn't ____ enough for those townsfolk was true.
So how do I start to feel a sense of belonging in a kabin (with a k) in the middle of the dessert, in the middle of a state that I know no one living in? I turn to my friends of course! I've made it to the part of this blog where I get to gush about how amazing my friends and family have been. One thing that I have noticed about the people around me is that we all do an astounding job at letting each other be who we are. I need to thank everyone for that, because without feeling like I belong whenever I talk to anyone I know, I never would have made it. Places make you feel like you fit in, people make you feel like you belong.
When I pulled into Eugene there were no fireworks, no group of people on the side of the road with big welcome signs. But! I did make it back to my apartment without GPS on the first try, on the way home from Whole Foods. Soooo, I'd say that's a start. Oregon feels like a place where I will find belonging, and even if it isn't, I've got enough of it. Because of this trip I was able to visit and reconnect with some people I otherwise wouldn't have seen this summer and each one of them picked up right where we left off in conversation. Some figuratively, some quite literally will answer the phone with an expansion of the conversation that we were having 4 days ago. What a way to make a girl feel like she belongs. And for those who may not drool all over their support systems the same way I do, Mary Oliver has some words for you:
the one world
we all belong to
where everything
sooner or later
is part of everything else
For those who need a translation, Hannah (luv u), it means that when I'm looking for belonging and I know I've exhausted my team, I remember that I get to belong to the collective of all beings as long as I leave my heart open to it.
THANKS FOR HELPING ME MAKE IT OUT TO OREGON, I LOVE YOU ALL!!!
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