Belonging and Curved Edges

It's all we want, really. To feel like we belong.

Belong in our families, in our relationships, in our workplace, in our environment, and fuck, just in the world. Just want to find where our niche is, and then rock the shit out of it. It can't just be me.

For a long time I've worked in the healthcare and home services industry. Developmental disabilities, mental illness, elder services, and the like. And I've learned so SO much. I've learned about myself more than anything. I've learned what I'm capable of, and most importantly, were it is I feel like I belong. And that's serving people. Helping people.

I've worked for someone else since I was 18. Building someone else's dreams by following my heart, and that was okay. It was what I was supposed to do because I didn't go to college. I was supposed to get a job and work. And the universe led me to the field of my dreams. It was demanding!

I was excited though. I'd been exposed to the world of special needs in elementary school, through a friend who's brother was profoundly affected, then volunteered as an aide for a class with students with special needs in middle school, and just kept seeking any opportunities I could. So when I drove past this school for kiddos with developmental disabilities, I thought, "well, I might as well apply". But something pushed me to do more. I decided to volunteer while I waited to hear about my application. And that, my friends, is what I believe landed me the job. HR came down one day, saying she didn't realize I was the same person who had applied, and why don't I come up when I was done for the day. Long story short // hired.

Little did I know, a couple of weeks in, I got pregnant.

So just when I finally felt like I was in a groove, and I could make it on my own, and make money doing a job I really loved, I missed a period. And I wasn't the kind to miss periods. It was the 8th pregnancy test that finally confirmed it for me. Knocked. Up.

And that little ol' sense of belonging slipped out of my hands just as fast as I'd caught it.

In the meantime a co-worker told me about another company he worked for, serving individuals in small group homes of two or three. Applied. Interviewed. Hired. Boom. Double income doing something that I really fucking loved and was good at to boot. So when the home I worked in lost their manager, I was reached out to, and asked if I would be interested. It took everything in me not to shout, "You bet your ass I do!" My gosh, things were falling into place in my professional life!

But my personal life was falling apart. My relationship with my soon to be son's father was tenuous at best. Unhealthy and unsalvageable, yet I wasn't ready to give up. So I coped. His father and I.. we were like two puzzle pieces you force together in every different way JUST to make sure they really don't go together before giving up. Our weird and curvy pieces weren't the RIGHT weird and curvy ones.

He and I didn't belong together. And I gave it all I had to be sure, and that is a big part of why I don't wonder. I'm not curious about what we could've been, or if I made the right choice by walking away. I needed to find a place where my son and I belonged.

Fast forward 4 years, two moves, two states, and two more jobs later, and I'm finally feeling that "yeah, this feels good. This right here, it feels like where I'm meant to be" again. Is it perfect? NO. Big fat NO. Haha, but it's pretty damn good. I have a lot to be thankful for, and even more to look forward to. I know it won't be easy or pretty or storybook-like. But one thing I'm pretty sure about is that I belong here.

One of my weird and curvy edges fits here. Without forcing it. Fits. Belongs.