I would first like to make an amendment to my previous post about home: home is not a house or a city, home is who you leave your heart with.
The more people you truly love, the more pieces of your heart find homes in the pockets of those people. The more people you truly love, the more fragmented you become. When you can no longer spare a single sliver of your heart, you start to feel homesick for all of the people who complete you.
My own heart is split a few different ways, with special places for my children, my husband, my brothers (T and A), and my sister. Now, that’s not to say that I don’t love other people, these are just examples of the biggest pieces of me that I have unconditionally given away. I have realised recently that I have become so fragmented that I am homesick. All of the different pieces of my heart are pulling me towards them, but I am not able to be with all of them at the same time. The puzzle that is my love for these people can never be put together and completed thanks to circumstance and geography. How can I continue to survive when I am not my whole self? Perpetually distracted by all of the places I’m not, bogged down with the knowledge that I can’t be of any help to anyone that doesn’t live in my house, I am feeling exhausted. I have no energy to be friendly and communicative with people whom I am only acquainted with; offering friendship feels like a betrayal to the ones I can’t be physically present with.
It has sunk in that I will never have the completeness that I need. My ideal of having everyone at arms distance is not ever going to happen. We all have roots planted, and to uproot the gardens of others to be happy in my own is something that I can’t do. Experiencing brief glimpses of complete happiness is my only option, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m not dealing with it well. Some of the people who I hold most dear are struggling as we speak, and I am powerless to help them. We can talk and text and Skype until our collective thumbs fall off, but nothing can replace the feeling of just being with someone when you need to be. Sitting in silence together, hugging, playing a game, pretending everything is fine…all things that cannot be experienced electronically. Turning inward is the only thing that consoles me when I feel helpless. Snuggling my girls obviously fills my heart in a way that nothing else can, but they are all getting tired of being smothered by me. I am thoroughly acquainted with my rock as well as my hard place, and neither of them are interested in losing me to a solution that I haven’t found yet.
So here I am.
Siphoning happiness from where I can, constantly running on fumes. Doomed to eat my emotional soup for the foreseeable future. It goes down bitter.
The moral of this story is, I’m a whiner who is tired of not getting everything that she wants. I delude myself into thinking that I am more important to others than I really am in an attempt to justify my self-inflicted loneliness and wanderlust. Sad with what I have. I don’t know how to change this part of me, but perhaps I am beyond repair.