Now that I’ve landed here in Black Mountain, NC, most definitely my soul’s home, I notice I’m experiencing an enduring sense of belonging to myself and all the gorgeous trees and nature around me. In some ways this isn’t surprising since my entire life I have felt safest and most at home in the world of birds, trees, streams, furry animals, bugs, birds, and worms. As a child I loved lifting up rocks and seeing all the squiggling, crawling guys burrowing quickly into the dirt to their place of safety and invisibility from predators. Their mission became my mission as I struggled to find comfort and safety in what others assumed would be the most obvious places.

At a very young age I discovered that buildings held adults and children with unpredictable streaks of cruelty and swirling, yet hidden, emotional chaos and physical acts of violence. The fake smiles and words spoken flatly or too sweetly from a script of civil obligation remained a pretense that masked darker utterances and actions. This often left me seeking the hills for solace and surrender. Trees don’t yell cruel words or intentionally do harm and neither do rabbits, butterflies, or rocks. Nature speaks a more predictable language of love, harmony, and receptivity. Even during a storm the thunder seems to answer the lightening. The rain pours down from the sky and doesn’t suddenly and unpredictably erupt from the needles or bark of evergreens. Bolts of light don’t unexpectedly burst out of animals’ eyes and fur. Natural places remained a constant, safe haven. And I continued my bumpy search for home and belonging with people and human made places.

Wired with intense sensitivity, deep empathy, and an undeveloped sense of self, I often quite quickly trusted almost anyone. This non-performing gut radar and lack of discernment came from years of living with a tortured soul parent, who I was suppose to be able to trust, but ultimately never could. Trust got shattered at every turn around a corner or flip of a light switch. As an adult I found myself in difficult situations betrayed by untrustworthy others. I had participated in every bad decision I made from this place of desperately seeking belonging. Less intense versions of the original trauma bond played out with intimate others and complete strangers for decades. “Are you my mother?” became an unspoken deep soul question I kept asking over and over again.

I now know what healthy, if imperfect, belonging looks like with beloved others. Through countless failings I learned to move toward kind others as I became healthier and whole from the inside out. I learned I could actually trust others and walk away from those who lacked integrity or simply did not have my best interests at heart. I currently lean into a new reality that I no longer can be bought or caught, because I was never for sale and I’m not an unsuspecting fish ravenous for that bait. Through a great deal of heartache and many dark months of the soul, I learned that I could be my own mother, sister, and best friend.

I finally came home to my soul, a sense of worth, and a belonging to myself that no one and no experience can alter. After hearing for years that home can be found inside of me, this idea connected to my heart and entire being. This message from ancient sages and contemporary metaphysicians finally aligned. I live with a keen awareness of my inner world and outer realities.

I now see that as I continued to pay attention to people, poo, and plants, heal the unresolved traumas of the past, and receive the insights of my imaginative and active inner world, I could finally come home to a peace and joy in my heart I never knew was possible, a healthy, perfectly imperfect, love relationship with a man, and the beauty of all the nature that surrounds me here on a mountain in North Carolina. A trifecta of coming home meant I had to go big and go home.

What is your experience of belonging? What does being home feel like for you?