Belonging

I don’t want to be longing.

I want to belong.

I remind myself I am enough…as a friend, mother, wife, home maker…I am enough as I am. I don’t have to be perfect. I am enough as I am.

I remind myself I am worthy…of  friends, love, connection, caring. I am worthy. I  am enough. I don’t need to be more, do more, expect more. As I am     right now, I am enough and  worthy.

And it’s good. I’m in the flow of life. I’m grooving along that channel in the old style records, making wonderful music of my life.

And sometimes, less often than before because the little part of me inside is listening to what I say to myself and I am  worthy and and I enough, but sometimes something happens that has me skittering across the record, creating discord inside of me, sliding sideways through the world instead of in the flow.

It’s painful. It hurts.  Then that little voice inside says “You suck. You’re not enough and certainly not worthy.”

I feel alone. Very alone. Missing connection and community and belonging.

I simply want to belong.

I cry myself to sleep.

In the night, invariably magic happens. I wake up to the dog snuffling my hand and the sound of my son pattering around trying to be quiet, and peace returns. I am enough. I am worthy. I do belong.

Getting from A to B and back to A is not fun. I don’t know how to fix it. It’s so hard to get through. I doubt the magic.

I am strong. I am capable. I’ve weathered this storm before. It’s just lonely.

I am enough. I am worthy. I am stong. I am capable. I am loved.

I am, and that’s enough.

 

 

 

 

 

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