a place of my own

When I was little, my I would’ve told you my safe place was that spot behind the couch where I could build a world with all my Barbies. Or I might have said curled up on that same couch with my dad. Those places never lasted. I had to clean up, dad had projects to work on, nothing that felt comfortable could stay forever.


We got a new house later in life. I wasn’t allowed to paint the walls. I couldn’t set plants on those shelves. Couldn’t light candles, you know, living in the basement things. I didn’t pick this mattress but it’s nice and it’s mine for now.


Then I moved into a dorm at university. I had 3 roommates (I miss you, if you’re reading this). And I mean yeah, we spilled cider into the carpet and left hair dye in the shower but. It wasn’t ours. It definitely wasn’t mine.


I moved twice a year for the next 4 years. And then hopped to a few different homes after that. Living in a suitcase. Went back home for a while, moved my bed around, which was nice. I sticky-tacked some pictures to the wall without asking. Then I went backpacking for a while. That was amazing. To think about all the people exactly the same and exactly different than me who slept right here.


But I never felt like I’ve got to stay anywhere long enough to call it my home. Or my safe place. Never stayed long enough to say it’s worth pinning posters up or decorating cohesively. Nowhere I felt that was both permanent and belonged to me.


I feel the same way about people.


I make homes out of people. I meet someone, and they stay just long enough for me to think it might be worth laying my things out, having a drawer to myself. I start thinking maybe I could get used to hanging out here. Safe enough to fall asleep while they're awake. And then they leave. They always leave. 


Which brings me to my next question, the only question I can never answer myself:


Why is it so easy for people to leave me? Why is there no fight? No "I miss you" texts. There’s no room for error with me. There’s no “that’s just who she is” “that’s why we love her”. 

If I’ve ever done something wrong, it’s costed me someone I love.

To the point where I do one of two things:


Freak out, stay awake for days, apologize for everything and anything, and walk on eggshells for the rest of eternity because I can’t bear to think I’ll make another mistake,


Or,


Get so mad at them for leaving me that I make sure to wipe my life clean of them so I can tell myself it’s their loss.


Both can be true. And I know, I know I’m allowed to feel these things. I just wished I didn’t. I tell them it's okay if they need space, or time away from me. It's okay if they like someone else. I'll tell them I wasn't really ready for a relationship. I will do anything so I don't have to lose the tiny pieces of them I have left.


My dad told me one time “when guys have a problem, they punch each other and move on.” I wish someone would just hit me and tell me they love me after. I would take a million punches if it meant I never had to lose people I loved.


Neither of my methods are what I would call the ‘right’ way of dealing with things. I wish I could wish people the best. I do, really. It’s just that I always think the best for them involves me.


A few notes on that:

1. Sometimes you will be the villain in someone’s story even though you don’t feel like you said or did anything mean to them.
2. Sometimes people have their own life things that requires them to put their relationships on the back burner.
3. People will forget your birthday.
4. People who used to comment on your pictures will stop doing it the less you stay in touch.
5. It’s not (always) personal.

How do I say, without sounding insane, that someone not loving me feels like betrayal?

There's this song called Billy & the lyrics sort of hit home:

I'll go, I'll never be

The girl of your dreams

I'm just the girl that you need

And I know you're not dreaming of me anymore

Like you were

Dreaming of me before

Just the girl that you need. Absolutely gut wrenching. It hurts because (and you'll know this if you've ever been that girl) it's an extra lonely pain when people use you only because they need something. Like companionship, or advice, or someone to text at 3am. Someone to snapchat because the work days are long. Someone who shows up just because they know you will. It's sad, really, because that person is me. And the reason it's sad is because I don't want to change. Part of me likes to be needed. 

I wonder if I'm strong enough to build a place of my own. Would that mean loneliness? Or would it mean freedom? I wonder if I'm strong enough to tell people not to come back. To hang a no vacancy sign on the door. I wonder if I'm strong enough to tell myself it wasn't my fault. That sometimes people are mean because that's who they are. I wonder if I'm strong enough to wait until I'm the girl of their dreams.

I wish everyone knew how much I loved them. I wish everyone knew I meant well. I wish everyone knew I never meant to take up so much space. I wish everyone knew my intentions. I wish everyone knew I forgave them. I wish everyone knew I missed them. I wish everyone knew I still look at the photos of us and cry happy/sad tears. I wish everyone could come closer so I could give them at least one more hug. And I wish I didn’t find safe places in people. I wish I never had the urge to make homes out of broken boys and cheap girls. I wish I wouldn’t see things I could fix about people. I wish I didn’t actually try to fix people. I wish I didn’t force people to love me.

The point is, I guess, that people are supposed to come in and out of your life, unfortunately. Even if you don't want them to. They're supposed to leave you with memories, or lessons, or even trauma sometimes. It's how we grow as people. It doesn't mean they hate you, or even think about you for that matter. It means they're on their own path just like you are. 

If I could describe my safe place now, it would involve me building a forever home for me and all the people I love. They’d know that, even though they haven’t stayed over in awhile, the porch light is on if they ever want to come back.