I wrote a 3 part series on my move back to New England, sort of by accident. The last three letters to you have circled around themes of belonging, returning home, and letting go of old parts to make space for authenticity and alignment. It’s what’s been present for me (clearly). But instead of having them be stand alone letters, they’re asking me to be grouped together as a series.
So here we are, a 3 part series on belonging and moving back to the place that raised me.
You can check out part 1 here: We’re Moving to the Country
And part 2 here: “to be somewhere as opposed to nowhere”
This is part 3.
To be seen, warts and all
In preparation for our move back to New England I have been listening to Noah Kahan on repeat, as one does when wanting to get the feel for New England living (the weather ain’t been bad if you’re into masochistic bullshit). His lyrics once made me feel nostalgic in a once upon a time kind of way, but now leave me desperately longing for the hardiness of the place I thought I permanently left behind long ago.
It’s a strange sensation, realizing that the only way to embody the fullness of who I am requires me to return back to where it all began. That in fact maybe the point of healing and forgiveness and growth and presence isn’t to build some new exciting and different life somewhere out there, but instead to no longer feel the need to be running away from the home that raised me.
Speaking of running, I was on a run the other day when a line from No Complaints gave me that pang in the heart that any resonant moment in nature or work of art evokes.
Yes, I’m young and livin’ dreams
In love with being noticed and afraid of bein’ seen
I see a younger version of myself in Noah Kahan’s words. The part who desperately wanted to be noticed by anyone and everyone, but who was absolutely terrified of being fully seen. I thought if I could get people to like me and notice me on my own terms then I could shield them from the parts of myself that I thought were broken, dark, unlovable, and unworthy.
For me the embodied experience of this was living in constant fear that people would eventually see me for “who I really am,” aka an irredeemably bad person. I was running not necessarily for my own sake, but for everyone else’s. I needed to protect others from the inevitability that I would let them down or hurt them.
I internalized that any slight or subtle interpersonal conflict was due to my own defectiveness. And so I kept it moving, farther and farther away from the familiarity of home.
It’s taken me years to figure this one out, but the farther away from the familiar I got the more it started to call me home like a Siren. While out on my big ol’ adventure to find myself, it slowly started to dawn on me: the healing journey almost always takes you home. Whether that be home to your body or literally, physically home.
Being back with family in all the familiar places can feel excruciating and life-affirming all at the same time. As Bell Hooks says in their book Belonging, “to me the family has always been that place of familiarity that holds and hurts us.” For most of us our core wounds live in the walls and the trees that watched us grow up. Yet they also hold our pure, childlike joy and sense of connection and belonging.
For many it is too painful to go back to those places; the wounds too deep, the relational patterning and subsequent traumas too invasive. To which I say, of course. Stay away. Build the life you never had as a child somewhere where you feel safe and supported.
For others going back is a necessary practice in integration; embracing the paradox of the light and dark within and without. A practice in being fully seen not just as you are now, but as you were back then. A practice in being fully seen not just as the person you are becoming, but as the person you’ve been running away from for years. A practice in being fully seen not only for your beautiful and caring qualities, but also for your quirks and oddities.
Somewhere along the way I turned an invisible corner and I no longer care about being noticed. I only want to be seen. Fully and wholly. Warts and all. I want to do my work in the world quietly and on purpose. I want to live in deep reverence to the land and people who not only raised me, but who hold home for me in every breath they take…
…even if that means living with both what holds and hurts me. Because it’s by embracing both that I’m reminded that it’s safe to be whole.
Xo,
The part in love with being seen
Welcoming Fall: A 15 day practice begins September 18th
A daily live and recorded kriya practice from 9-9:30am EST from September 18-October 2nd. We will be celebrating the fall equinox with kundalini breath and movement, holistic educational resources and guidance on how to intentionally welcome your mind and body into fall, and support from myself and others along the way.
This 15 day practice has been called “transformative” and “life changing.” I hope you’ll join us by becoming a paid subscriber.
Reducing Chronic Overwhelm: An Integrative Health Approach, Sunday September 29th at 11am EST (recording available)
Learn a fully integrative approach to reduce chronic overwhelm so you can feel capable and present enough to build and live the life you want.
Learn more about this workshop offering *here.
Weekly Monday & Wednesday 20-minute breath & movement classes beginning October 7th.
I’m sooooo excited to be in more consistent practice with you all! More info on these classes to come.
*you can pay for the workshop as a one-off, or become a paid subscriber for automatic sign up to every All Parts offerings.
Beautiful reflections Eliza ❤
Sending you love as you seek to find that wholeness in your homeland.