I don't live anywhere
that's extreme but someone tell me what to do.
I have- since I was in high school- been extremely interested in understanding how others see me. I am generally unbothered by what any particular stranger thinks. But societies aggregate perception of me seems to hold the key to understanding how well I am aligning my internal world with the external. I think I am smart, am I perceived as smart? I think I am free spirited, am I perceived as free spirited? Do I come across as sophisticated? Can people tell that I am kind, even through all of the jokes I make? How attractive am I? The answer is morally neutral but the information is important to me. This particular mental tick is less exhausting than it seems when described on paper. I am shooting for self-awareness. The foundation of self-improvement. What any person thinks of me is none of my business, what everyone thinks of me tells me a lot about what I should work on.
I don’t know where I live. And while it does not actually matter— all of the places I would consider are the same place with a different filter— it feels important. It’s time to settle in one place, I know that. God save my soul, but not right now. I am finished with youthful chaos but not quite ready to embrace the adulthood that still looks painfully mundane to me. I do not want to commit to who I am even enough to pick a state. Am I a New Yorker? A Floridian? Should I pack everything up and try a whole new place?
Several weeks ago, I was sobbing through a therapy session. I was very worked up, in a state I rarely allow myself to reach. Eating caramel corn as I cried big, salty tears about how terrified I am. “I just want to go home.” It was the only thing I said, again and again, while my gentle, pretty analyst tried to ask me what I meant. I just want to go home. “Where is home?” Home is where people take care of you and are on your team. I finally managed to tell her that when I feel uncertain about the future, I imagine I am still in my old sea foam green bedroom, plush tonal carpet on the floors, soft linen sheets, my husband at rest beside me. "But I don’t know if I actually want to go home or if I am scared that I will never have a home again.”