belonging
It’s tormented me always, my need for belonging. To someone, somewhere, it flairs up in the most insignificant life places like silently boasting my red card in the Target line. I belong, I promise.
It’s as if being a part in a greater whole relieves my demons, of which I have few. I find myself watching back up dancers more than the star, because I sincerely envy them more. All that coordination. All that bonding. You know where everyone is supposed to be for the duration. Insanely hypnotizing.
I’m not sure if this means I’m a sheep, as much as I’m much better on a team. The solo stardom doesn’t interest me, it’s the group hug at the end of a finish line that does.
So even if I haven’t quite figured out professionally how to bring this foundational slice of my pie to life, it was always easy to figure it out at home. Take care of someone else, love someone else, high five after great sex, cry after great loss.. easy. So, then why can’t I do it? Or better yet, why don’t I trust myself in it?
It’s as if being a part in a greater whole relieves my demons, of which I have few. I find myself watching back up dancers more than the star, because I sincerely envy them more. All that coordination. All that bonding. You know where everyone is supposed to be for the duration. Insanely hypnotizing.
I’m not sure if this means I’m a sheep, as much as I’m much better on a team. The solo stardom doesn’t interest me, it’s the group hug at the end of a finish line that does.
So even if I haven’t quite figured out professionally how to bring this foundational slice of my pie to life, it was always easy to figure it out at home. Take care of someone else, love someone else, high five after great sex, cry after great loss.. easy. So, then why can’t I do it? Or better yet, why don’t I trust myself in it?