Sometimes I feel so far from home.
It's like I'm an alien who crashed landed. Here I am in this strange place, stumbling and disoriented amid the wreckage. I've lost my way back to the mother ship, and my whole life's quest is to find myself and my people. But I have these ideas, you know? These asinine ideas convincing me that if I stay, I might be able to build a more human, more authentic world. Better than they've done it. The humans, they seem so caught up in 'having', less so in 'being'. And nobody speaks plainly or maps out the landscapes of their internal world for others to see. It's so foreign to me. I feel like an outlander wandering through a barren land speaking frenzied monologues to a crowd of vacant faces.
This probably only happened in a dream space, but I have this very early memory of myself as an infant in my crib. I'm picking away at the wallpaper with my tiny fingers when my big brother peeks in through the cracks in the bars.
"Hi Missy,” he coos. I look up at him with pleading eyes. I want to tell him that I don't belong here, but I don't have the words quite yet. I just know I need out. This rectangular box wasn't meant for me. No boxes ever are.
That's the way I've felt from day one.
But instead of going rogue like I want to, I hustle like hell for my worth in order to convince myself and others that I belong. I look like all the people, but I don't feel like anyone else I've ever known.
The truth is, I've struggled with some form of imposter syndrome my whole life. No matter what I've accomplished or how easily I fit in, I can't seem to shake this feeling that I'm a fraud. I play the part beautifully. Convincingly, even. But I have this deep fear that I'm only passing for the real thing. That sooner or later, I'll inevitably be found out and exposed. This nagging voice always tells me not to push it. Don't get too comfortable. Don't let them know you're making it up as you go along. So I don't.
No matter how out of place I feel, I automatically gain access to the inner circles. People want my company. Yet, mentally, emotionally and spiritually, I'm stuck on the periphery. You ever feel it? The alienation? That relentless disconnect from the umbilical cord of life?
After a period of high achievement or complete tunnel vision where I'm hyper-focused on something I love to the detriment of everything else, I find myself lost in the wilderness again. I want to rest my head, but hyper-vigilance is what is called for in moments like these. I can't relax. I need to keep proving I can make it here. That I can do all the things that successful humans are supposed to do. Progress over process. A constant need to be the best at everything. That's how we imposters survive. That's what our worth is tied to.
Despite 'proving' time and time again that I'm compassionate, hardworking and capable of excellence in most of the things I choose to take on, it never feels like it's enough. When someone affirms my skills or abilities and puts me on a pedestal, I become shaky and full of doubt. Being put under the spotlight or told that I'm naturally good at things seems to have the adverse effect of catapulting me into feeling worse about myself.
I don't remember a time when I didn't feel a constant pressure to perform highly in some area of my life. School, my career, motherhood. The desire to be a good lover, a selfless friend, and a committed sister and daughter. If I doubt that I'm capable or won't be good at something, then I won't even bother trying, or I'll delay it for as long as I can. All those years picking at a degree, ahem, ahem. I seem to believe that I can only do something well if I pour all of myself into it. I want to do, be, and experience so many things, but I invest so intently to the people and the ideas that I'm passionate about that it feels like a waste when I can't devote everything to them.
But lately, I just crave rest. I crave being able to bask in my own imperfections. I'm bored of doing what looks good on paper. I'm burnt out from it. That's not what I want my kids to see me doing. I have a strong inclination to bare my cracks and scars. I want to be undone, fully naked under the gleaming light of the sun. This is terrifying, exhilarating, and enlightening.
All I know for sure is that my path doesn't need to be spotless or free of mistakes to make a difference. As I tell my son, mistakes are allowed. And not only that, they are encouraged as a necessary component of getting to know yourself deeply. But it's hard to trust this when my early childhood experiences programmed me to believe I was only acceptable under certain conditions. That to belong and be of value in my family of origin, I had to check every box. This gave way to a implacable perfectionism. A diversion from my true essence and a merger into what I believe this world wants me to be. But as I'm leaning into myself more, I'm recognizing that we're all imposters in some way or another. And whether we are playing parts or being our most authentic selves, we are usually performing to an audience that's asleep.
I've always felt that this meatsack is merely providing a shelter for my soul. I just want to connect to that at all times, and to be around people who foster that connection. People who allow me to feel safe to talk about the kind of planet I envision for my children and discuss how to make our temporary home a gentler, more authentic, more 'earthy' place, if you will. When I meet people who share these visions, I feel renewed. I feel like we're just little orbs of light floating in a "soul space" instead of a world with systems and hierarchies. That feels more 'real' to me, as does recognizing that there's no 'perfect' me or 'perfect' other. What we offer through our very existence is enough.
Deep down, we know that none of these so called achievements or societal constructs truly matter. We've just accepted them as truth and breathed life into them for too long. What matters is how deeply we get to know our own souls, and those of others. How much we dare to look beyond the cracks in ourselves and others, and break these open with courage and compassion. I figure I've probably got another 50 years or so to do that, And in that time, I want to meet myself and others as deeply as I possibly can. I want to reclaim what I lost in the wreckage of who I would have been if the world hadn't got its hands on me. And in the end, I want to say that I've returned home to myself.
I wish the same for you.