Out of Place at Home

Growing up, I always felt out of place. I just never really fit in. I didn’t like overly girly stuff, so I didn’t fit in with the girls. And I wasn’t a boy, so I didn’t fit in with the boys. On top of this, I was the tall kid. The overweight kid. As a six-foot seventh grader, whose figure did not conform to the acceptable petiteness of preteen girls, my time in middle school was fraught with feeling like the ultimate outsider. Always removed from the socializing that was happening in the circles a foot below me.

I spent much of my time slouching, leaning, and bending over just to fit in, while also performing the other covering-up acrobatics of the body-conscious. And while high school was a bit of a relief, in that I no longer was the tallest all the time, my place in the society of my peers had already long been set. I was the outsider. I had friends, but in every friendship or relationship something was always not quite right.

It was only when I left my hometown that I truly started to find myself, to find my place. Where others might find culture shock when going to new places, I found a feeling of belonging. I met others like myself. Travelers, outcasts. Through travel, I was not only able to explore the world, but I was able to discover myself. I loved learning about new cultures and seeing new places. And this excitement always made the place I was in feel comfortable and the people I was with feel like friends and family. And getting lost on these travels, I felt, was always a bonus. Finding my way in an unfamiliar place was all part of the adventure. My early adult life was spent mostly on the move, constantly in search of that feeling of belonging.

Ironically, I never felt more out of place than when I went “home”. Because there, I was stuck in a moment in the past. I couldn’t be the me I had grown into. I was forever that girl that everyone remembered. They expected me to be her. The time that I felt this the most was when I returned to the States from teaching in Nepal. I had absolutely fallen in love with Nepal. I taught in two different remote villages and found myself completely at peace there. I felt like part of the family. Even as a six-foot, blonde, pale-skinned individual - characteristics that made me stick out like a sore thumb in that country - I never felt like an outsider. When I returned to the States I had so many stories to share, so many experiences that I wanted to talk about. Friends and family would ask about my time there, but just moments into my response, their eyes would glaze over. They couldn’t relate to the life I was describing. I was not the person they were expecting, or at least, my new experiences did not match with who they expected me to be. My otherness was highlighted once again. So again, I didn’t stay long. What others may see as my home, is not home for me.

And through all that travel, I found my person, my place. I finally feel like I belong. I’ve found where I fit. Completely accepted. This was highlighted at our wedding where, in my sister’s speech, she congratulated my husband on being the first person or place who could get me to stay. My sister-in-law put it even more beautifully saying: “What I have found along the way is that home can be many things. It is not just four walls, and a roof – a physical location. Home is wherever you feel comfortable and safe, accepted and loved.” She knew we had found our homes in each other.

My advice to others feeling like the fish out of water in the pond where they were born: travel. You will find more love and acceptance for yourself through your journeys to remote places. Explore the world to find your tribe. They’re out there. I’m glad I didn’t settle where I was. Because now I’ve found where I should be.

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