I always thought that ‘belonging’ is what I crave, to be
accepted by the people I look up to, to fit in by behaviour and looks. I
thought that achieving in the job and in relationships means compromise to fit
it. I thought that after gaining acceptance I might even be able to become the
leader of the pack and to re-introduce to my life a few of the things that I
gave up in order to get there. I thought that if I tried hard enough, I eventually
would feel grown up and confident; that things would fall into place; that I
would ‘arrive’.
It never happened.
In contrary: My life has fallen apart. After so many years
of hard work to achieve belonging I separated from my husband and along that
way I lost the people who were my friends. I am lucky even that we both do not fight, so
the transition from friends to acquaintance is a smooth one; yet, there I was
two month ago: Not only my daily life, my habits, everything I thought I am had
vanished, but my ways of how to solve problems and to find happiness had become
invalid as well.
I had two options: cut and run to a new place and try again using
the same method nevertheless, or stay and find new ways. This is a tough yet
simple decision; it is one to follow with the heart, and my heart told me to
stay. Staying for me means ‘Home’; home in the sense of knowing where to belong
rather than to whom to belong; home in the sense of my childhood days.
Back then, ‘home’ was the place, which I knew inside out:
the house of my parents, the village, the fields around it, my hiding places. I
felt grounded and safe. From those safe grounds I explored further and further,
taking the dog for a walk and finding new ways and new places, and making them
home as well.
I had lost the explorer in me a long time ago. Maybe I
focused too much on building a home that fits in, hence making me dependent on
people’s opinions.
When I left for University I felt uprooted and I was told:
‘Home is not a place, it is the people you are with; you are missing your
parents, you will feel better when you make new friends’. I lived with my
boyfriend and quickly found friends, but I needed more than a year to feel at
home. I needed to know my ways, the shops, and the parks; people moved through
this space, the boyfriend left, a fling was enjoyable, the husband came; it was
the place that kept me grounded.
I however did not questioned this theory of ‘people being
the home’; I adopted the viewpoint and moved to England with my husband, found
new friends quickly, yet again I needed more than a year to feel safe and
settled.
Now that people have removed themselves out of the equation
that is my life, I still feel happy in my home. Since I took the decision that
I will stay, and since I know that I will be able to keep my house I feel
grounded… and I am exploring again: new career, new hobbies, which actually are
the old ones, just that I had forgotten about them, and new ways of thinking. I
am writing this while sitting in the open restaurant of my second home,
Tangkahan. If I accept that home is a place in which I feel comfortable, then I
can have more than one.
I love my house in England and I don’t even know why. It
just felt right when I set foot into it for the first time. I love Tangkahan,
and I don’t even know why, I cried when I set foot on that Green Lodge terrace
for the first time and I felt that this is a place where I want to be.
I found wonderful new friends in England as well as
Tangkahan; some of them even have become family. I invite them into my life, I
show them the Rika I feel comfortable with, and I acknowledge that it is their
decision to stay or to move on.
It feels good to be an explorer again. I now know why I was
at my happiest all those years back when I was walking the fields with my dog.
I was on a quest for new homes.
During my recent soul searching journey I discovered that
the different facets of my character appreciate ownership of individual homes:
a home for work and challenge, a home for creativity and inspiration, a home to
relax. I used to think that the aim is to find it all in one place and if it is
not there then to create it, a viewpoint that gives priority to a facet of my
character that inhibits rather then encourages: the control freak.
Only a few days back I was asked: Who is Rika? I did not
know; I thought I had to ‘arrive’, to see the final product in order to be able
to put a name to it. Today I know that arriving would mean stagnation and
boredom.
Today I confidently state: Rika is an explorer again!
The answer feels like coming home.
Posts
