The daunting process of putting down roots (and how I’ve failed it)

This has come up a lot over the last few days, so I felt I had to rant about it.

Basically, I am now without anywhere I would call Home. Oh, I have a room I can sleep in, and most of my stuff is in that room, but I wouldn’t call it Home.

Home, as they say, is where the heart is. My heart is not where I sleep.

I suppose it’s inevitable, after losing my partner and being uprooted from where I lived with him, but I have been struggling so much to make a proper life for myself.

I have, I believe, done all I can. I’ve gone to parties. I’ve messaged old college friends in the area. I’ve tried finding clubs. I’ve gone on dates. I’ve even tried meeting the kids of my father’s friends. I’ve looked for jobs, found local clients, and travelled 90 minutes to try making friends. None of it has stuck.

By this point, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with. I know, also, that I struggle to socialise ‘lightly’ as some people can – I get quite intense as a friend, which means that I don’t do the same social chit-chat type thing which some people do. I end up talking about life and death and the universe within a few minutes of meeting people. Still, there must be some people out there that I can socialise with. I just can’t find them.

It’s gotten to the stage where putting myself out there is just exhausting. All the easy routes are gone, all the places where I could most be myself. I’m now left with fighting against my nature in an attempt to fit in, and thus not feel so isolated. All I have to show for it is that I now visit my bother occasionally, even if that does mean looking after his three-year-old at times. Hardly the exciting social life I was aiming for.

Still, it has helped me realise how important it is – or  can be – to put down roots in an area. I’m currently on holiday, and it is with some terror that I’ve realised I have nothing to return to. If I had my guitar and sewing machine with me, I don’t think I’d return at all.

Roots can change that. Friends, family, a job, hobbies, clubs, etc. They all change that. If you at least have something you like to do, near where you live, maybe that’s enough to keep you going. Maybe that’s enough to make an area Home.

I envy people who have that.

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