Tell me what you yearn for and I shall tell you who you are. We are what we reach for, the idealized image that drives our wanderings. – James Hillman
Please forgive my deceptive title. This is more about me than a physical room. It’s more about the boxes I try to fit inside. It’s about feeling divided and longing for all of the versions of myself to move forward as one, simplified soul. It’s about overcoming my idea of your idea of my ideal me.
When I write a blog post here in my life’s little word playground, I wonder who will read it. Who will even care about what I write about? Who will connect to my thoughts? I keep trying but I don’t really fit in the boxes I see out there.
I am a mixed bag of categories. I have kids in my life but I’m not technically a mother. I appreciate conservative ideas and modesty but I have a sailor’s vocabulary (sorry Mama, but you know it’s true) and I love the art of belly dance. I grew up in the city and but now I live in the country. When given the chance, I’m really good with people. I’m funny and charismatic but people scare me and I avoid them. I love to travel but I don’t go anywhere.
Feels like I don’t really fit in.
I feel caught between worlds. I read about stay-at-home, homeschooling moms trying to create a happy home and I get it. I also read about people traveling the world with simple gear and a heart to write about their adventures and I get that too. Minimalism. Organizing. Living a full, happy life. I get those too. (notice I did not include how to get incredibly wealthy…I don’t get that one yet…).
The thing is, I’m pretty sure the boxes don’t matter. It’s perfectly fine if I’m a non-mom who has kids and loves to experiment with minimalism and random travel gear for road trips and commutes. But part of me really wants to fit in one of the more traditional boxes and I end up feeling so divided. Par for the course in the conundrum that is me.
On my quest for simplicity, I anticipate many lessons. I can see ahead and the faster I move, the more narrow the road becomes. I can’t drag all of my divided selves along with me. It’s part of my search for minimalism. If I make myself fit in any box, my quest is over. Boxes don’t move. Boxes don’t dance along life’s path.
If there’s only room for one, then I guess I gotta just be me. This strange, inconsistent mix of zeal for a beautiful life and insecurities is all I really have. So I leave behind the boxes and dance…
Thank you for traveling with me this far. I appreciate your company.