Homesick

Yesterday, after a morning of introspective writing and a run with my dog in amazing spring weather, I was driving to pick up a little lunch. I was already in a bit of a low mood, feeling how difficult life is when I embrace reality, stand on my own two and try to grow-up--all things I've been working on as a late-blooming 42-year-old....

Well, call me shallow and sappy, but a country song came on the radio that absolutely grabbed me. It was from the perspective of someone already gone, what they would say from the grave to the ones they loved. The singer described being buried in the cemetery at the edge of his hometown, and wanted everyone to know his soul had found it's home in heaven.

I got unbelievably, overwhelmingly homesick--and not just for my home in California...

Yes, first I saw in my mind's eye the cemetery on the edge of my hometown, the one on the road to the house I grew up in, the one I used to pass a couple times every day. I'm guessing if I died today that's where I'd go. I thought of that place, my parents, my home, and suddenly, I so badly wanted to be there.

Then I got sad and wistful, because I realized that place might not be my home anymore. I still say it is, pretend it is, because I love it so and it’s the only place I really go back to, but if my parents weren't still there, what would I really have in that place? How often would I go back? When they are gone, won’t it be so sad if it isn’t my home anymore?

I get twinges of homesickness every now and then, but I’ve always been very up for this vagabond life: traveling, living in new places, seeing the world. I’ve made my home wherever we are because I know that home isn't really a place on the map, it's my place in the world...my place with God, and my circle, so it has never really mattered where I lived.

So I tried to comfort myself with those thoughts...but then I realized that even my place in the world isn't so sure.

It was the part in the song about the soul's home that really got me--that's when the sobs really started and I had to pull the car over. I suddenly felt deeply, strangely and fearfully that my soul had no home.

I was homesick for Christianity. For the feeling of security I used to have in Christianity.

I just don’t get to walk around knowing where my soul belongs anymore, believing and being so damn sure that I am being taken care of, now, here on earth, and later in heaven.

I guess I just hit me really hard--I am homeless.

How painful this is--being out in the world, re-thinking everything. I’ve learned in recent years that nothing in life works as I though it did, and that has left me a bit thrown...

Is this what people feel when they’re really being grown-ups, when they're really thinking and embracing reality? Is this how freedom feels sometimes? It this the price of it? Is this why people decide on religions, keep routines, become workaholics, and go from buzz to buzz? Is it so they can feel at-home? Comfortable? Secure?

I wanted to tell everyone that this is too much, that if they haven't seen or felt this yet, they shouldn't. They should just stay there, where they are--don't question, don't move. Religion, Christianity, living in the box of one's choice isn’t so bad...it's good. It's safe and comfortable. I wanted to warn them that it is way too scary out here, way too painful. Stay home and take comfort, whatever the cost....

But, I've also recently learned, since I've been working at being my own person and have given up trying to live within a belief system, that the worst feelings...the scariest feelings, they just have to be withstood.

I can't fold, I can't give in.

Right now, everyone is suspect for getting me off-track. I'm working really hard to find my own true thoughts and opinions about life, and no one is intimidating me into feeling or thinking anything. I'll decide. I'll stand on my own two and go toe-to-toe with everyone and their ideas.

That's how you do it...that's how you live life. I just learned that. At 42 I just learned this very basic thing about how to live. Have confidence in your own thoughts, and don't fold.

And, after I withstand the worst--the fear, the intimidation, the loneliness--it eases, and I can see that I've made it through. That happened yesterday. I sucked up the sobs, wiped the tears and continued on. I went to my job and worked hard until late--thinking and feeling all the while.

I woke up today and saw, or felt, that I had gained some valuable ground. Yes, yesterday's reality was scary and painful. Yes, I used to have an easier life. I'm still sad, and a little homesick, but I had to move. There's no way I could fit my bigger life, my bigger thoughts, back into that house. The questions got too loud.

You know those crazy homeless people who choose to be homeless because they enjoy the freedom of living off their wits? Could that be me?