“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves”.
Henry David Thoreau
I am “The One” in the family that left “home” for parts unknown at a relatively young age. Having relocated many times in my formative years, I grew more accustomed to a state of transition than to any sense of groundedness. Aside from NY, I haven’t felt any significant attachment to a particular place in my adult life either. In fact, even today I am basically living like a college student with sparse furniture and half of my belongings packed in banker’s boxes from my last move. Which was over three years ago (!)
The apartment I now occupy was always meant to be a temporary space. A placeholder for my husband and I to plot our future, a spot to share dreams and decide together on our eventual landing place in a home of our choosing where we would buy grown-up furniture, commit to paint colours, adopt another cat and maybe a dog. Someday, if it was meant to be, we would create a baby. Possibly a garden. No white picket fence, but perhaps a row of trees.
Needless to say, all of those hopes and dreams died with the end of our marriage. And ever since, it seems as though I’m wandering aimlessly lost and in dire need of directions.
This weekend I fly to Manitoba to spend a week with my family in cottage country. It is a trip I had been putting off until I could bring my husband with me. I wanted to show him the geographical place I was born, where my parents shared most of their lives together, my father’s resting place, where my sister and brother-in-law and nieces all call “home”. The intention was to have a second wedding ceremony including my nieces and a lifelong friend that I to this day think of as my other sister.
And now, I acknowledge that all of those plans are gone. Gone. GONE.
I must also admit that despite the core sadness I am experiencing around this journey, under the surface, there is also a sense of excitement to see my nieces in the latest versions of themselves (I mean, shit! Kids really do grow up so fast.) Returning to a place I no longer consider “home”, but remains a part of my heart.
I’ve felt very lost going through the upheaval that has been my life lately. But I’m also quite certain that this disorientation will eventually reveal itself to be a map. An internal GPS that ultimately leads to whoever it is that I’m becoming.
As I regain my bearings, I look forward to discovering the next phase of my life. Whatever that looks like.