I think it's also because I've realized that I don't want people's pity. What I want is simply understanding. Keep your sympathy. Bring me instead your empathy. Let me know I'm not a weirdo, that I'm not an outlier.
I just started reading Brené Brown's Braving the Wilderness. She talks about the moments that impacted her, that started her down the path of feeling like she didn't belong. When I think back to these moments in my own life, these include:
High School- M/K
Right before I left California- Mom/Dad
When I started believing in God- S/K
Right before I got married- K
The last one, aside from my family hurts, is the one that hurt the most. This is a little funny to me, only in that in every moment mentioned before that, I remember saying to myself, "I will never experience a greater pain than this." But this last one, what a doozy. It's the worst because it literally changed me. It shut me down and made me feel the most alone I've ever felt. And that's a pain I will carry with me until I can let go of it, because no one I've met can empathize with what happened.
And at 32, I still find myself not fitting in, feeling so different. So like high school all over again. And it's lonely. And exhausting. Feeling different is exhausting.
I really enjoyed Brené's "I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't)"—it meant a lot to me to know that I'm not the only one in the world dealing with overcoming shame. I'm excited for what I'll learn in this current book...maybe being able to see myself more clearly instead of through the lens of past hurts that I can't seem to shake.
Somewhere, somehow I need to learn to love myself on this long road to belonging. Brené shares an interview with Maya Angelou:
BILL MOYERS: Do you belong anywhere?
MAYA ANGELOU: I haven’t yet.
BILL MOYERS: Do you belong to anyone?
MAYA ANGELOU: More and more. I mean, I belong to myself. I’m very proud of that. I am very concerned about how I look at Maya. I like Maya very much. I like the humor and the courage very much. And—when I find myself acting in a way that isn’t—that doesn’t please me, then I have to deal with that.
I titled this post "Blank Canvas" but it's not quite that simple. I see this new season as a blank canvas, but the canvas isn't new and stark white with no blemishes on it. Instead it's a canvas where the artist decided to start over and repainted it white in an attempt to start fresh. Some shades and shapes show through the new glaze of ivory, but it doesn't mean it's unusable. The remnants will remain underneath the new layer of paint, but what will come is something new.
