This is a very old post now. But it came to my attention after reading another bloggers post on the power of not belonging. I see sometimes with great sadness how often I struggle to try to fit into places I don’t really belong. And I certainly feel more at peace (even if a little lonely at times) when I feel a sense of belonging and rightness within my inner self.
For a long time in my life, although I was not aware of it, I was wandering the world hoping for understanding and comfort. As the youngest I felt very much like an observer and an outsider in my family. There are huge age gaps between me and my oldest siblings and so in some ways living in my family was like being an only child.
I wrote in an earlier blog about finding a cache of letters written during the year I was four which outline the context of our family life. What came across were two parents who were very involved in their own life and little involved in mine. A conversation with my mother midweek revealed little memory, on her behalf of this time, only the observation that I was a “difficult child”. It wasn’t only me who was difficult, the dog was difficult too. What…
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