Letting Yourself Belong – How to Heal the Stories of Separation

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You hunger to connect.

I hunger to connect.

And I also clutch my stories that I don’t belong, that I’m too intense to have friends, that nobody likes me.

This weekend I attended a writing retreat on the island and one of the women, who I have known lightly for years, said, “Jen, you are so delightful. Why don’t I ever see you? Let’s have coffee.”

My heart went thunk. Why don’t you see me? indeed.
“Because I hide,” I said, looking into her kind hazel eyes.

Yes, I’m busy, yes I’m a working girl and that has made it hard, over the years, to sustain friendships with women with free time in the middle of the day, hard to attend the yoga class everyone else goes to, hard to have lunch, hard to go for a hike.

But it’s not just that.

It’s my heavy tangle of stories that create a labyrinth of loneliness.

It’s hiding from my aching to belong.

This weekend showed me yet again this story lives in me, not out there.  “Why don’t I ever see you?” indeed – even funnier when another woman asked me that at the end of the weekend.

We all get triggered, tired, or lost in our habitual patterns of shadow comforts and time monsters, in our stories of how things are. We all get disconnected from what we most long for.

Our triggers and patterns create a barren prison… but lucky us! It’s all a mirage!

Meeting Dani Shapiro

After this day of seeing my story of painful separation, I jumped on the ferry to meet writer Dani Shapiro for a drink before her reading. Dani’s an incandescent writer and lovely human being. We connected this summer when I interviewed her for Shero’s School for Revolutionaries. Her interview was superb, a transmission of creative truth.

I’m feeling all soft and glowing from wiggling free from my old story. I’m excited to meet Dani. I’m humming, feeling groovy.

Then the ferry is really late and that is bad as we have a tiny window to connect and I’m getting wound up about being late… the voice in my head starts about how I’m not a real writer and I feel the weight I’ve gained since the wedding pooling around my middle, and it’s icy cold and now the traffic going up the hill is awful and I get turned around twice. I park by the bookstore and I’m kind of sure I parked by a fire hydrant, it’s busy and dark and so cold, and now I’m 40 minutes late and she’s already left the restaurant to go to the reading. So I go into The Elliot Bay Book Company and I’m hungry and I can’t find Dani…

The noise in my head is getting loud…the stories are seeming so real again.

Then I stop.

I remember.

I remember my desire to belong isn’t just the desire to belong to my community but my deep desire to belong to myself.

My deep desire to belong to myself, to always find the home in my own heart.
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I connect with my heart (literally), standing by the poetry table, the dog on the cover of Mary Oliver’s new book keeping me company. I breathe and bring up that exquisite remembrance of belonging.

Then I go find Dani. She’s perfect – beautiful and chic, glowing with taste and talent and presence.
She’s perfect for me to project all my “I wish I was ____” stories onto, and my fashion insecurities to boot.
The noise was there, the old stories swirling, trying to push me away from belonging, to myself, to this new connection.
And the love and presence and connection was far, far more real.
It felt so good to settle there.

I belong.
We belong.
Let us step into the connection again and again.

Any comments? This was a vulnerable one to write, love to hear how you work with your desire to belong.

Love,

Jen

Click Here to Leave a Comment Below

Jude Spacks - December 11, 2013

Lovely tenderness, dear Jen, thank you.

I hit on a self-talk comeback in highschool: I’d figure my flaw, awkwardness, fashion fail etc were a public service to provide others a reason to feel superior to if they wanted to.

But really, I like to remember what you say: the sense of belonging or not is happening inside, the separation happens in my thinking, nowhere else. How can I not belong here? Here I am! *Oh well!*

One sunbeam says to another, “Whoa! You are gorgeous!
One of the greats! You are a real star!” The other says, “Takes one to
know one.” They’re looking in a mirror of where they both come from,
seeing the truth of who they are. A sunbeam that says, “Hey, why doesn’t
anyone notice how shiny, shinier, shiniest I am?” simply hasn’t recognized themself yet.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    what a great story, can I use that when I get talks?? Glad to see you posting again by the by, love getting your newsletters.

    Reply
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Suzie - December 11, 2013

You are so brave. Love you.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    ah shucks, thanks!

    Reply
      Suzie - December 11, 2013

      I think of you so often, Jen. Eventually, I’ll send you a bona fide update, but your hands extend to so much of the good that has been happening in my life. Your posts help me stay connected to your goodness and wisdom. Thanks, Sweetness.

      Reply
JeffreyDavis11 - December 11, 2013

Uh, you been reading my private notebooks? Seriously, I just posted a couple of pieces on breaking out of the DIY mindset that I think contributes to this story of not-belonging. This pattern goes back to teen years (yikes) when in my notebooks I used to draw “social circles” of who’s friends with whom (oh, I’ve never admitted that to anyone!). I’ve belonged to myself for a long time but actively take steps now to reach out to friends, build a team based on communication, and create live intimate circles (a meet-up for other creatives who also have versions of this story + an informal meditation circle I host called Sit-Sip-Talk). C.S. Lewis called friendship the hardest of the four loves. Thanks, my friend, for bearing your heart.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    I promise I am not in your notebooks but I get it! Knowing you over the years lightly and better now, I totally see the sensitive smart yet maybe a bit tart to others for not getting it teen you were… and what a whole luminous loving man you have worked to become.

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Deirdre - December 11, 2013

WOW – all your posts touch and move me, make me feel not so different and weird. And then there are some, like this one, that just open me up in the most delicious way as you put into words the areas in myself that call for understanding, compassion, and love. And you so clearly point the way back to sanity, back to myself, back to peace – thank you for shining the light of grace, the gift of wholeness in such a grounded, real way! Your words are a gift and a blessing in my life, love, Deirdre

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    oh thank you!! that is so lovely to read – had a bit of a vulnerability hangover last night after writing this, so thank you for the balm.

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      Deirdre - December 11, 2013

      A gift to me to be able to share back to you as you are often a balm for my spirit 🙂

      Reply
Catherine Cerulli - December 11, 2013

Your vulnerability is your strength Jen. You so beautifully model the power of connecting profoundly from the heart’s tender places.

I believe the heart inspires, the mind instructs.

When my mind starts instructing me – telling me what i should or shouldn’t be doing, I say to myself: “If this were my best friend saying this about herself, what would I say to her?” I immediately know what i would say, and how to say it. I give myself that gift.

Thank you Jen for this inspiring, insightful post.

Catherine

PS With my son & daughter-in-law living on Bainbridge Island, I know so well that ferry ride and journey up the hill to Elliott Bay, the challenge of finding a parking spot before my husband’s book talk, etc. I feel like I just was transported back for a wee visit.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    thanks so much Catherine, i love what you wrote! And glad to give you a wee visit – sans traffic!!

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Juli Ford Alhadeff - December 11, 2013

Loved this, Jen. I adore your vulnerability and I relate to your fashion insecurity! xoxo

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    especially since I was wearing the infinity scarf I can never learn how to drape/tie/etc. 🙂

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Kristin Leonard - December 11, 2013

Oh, I love it! Thank you for writing this!

Choosing to start my own coaching business is my way of saying, “I am here, I am visible, I am speaking up now and trusting my words will resonate with people.”

And of course it brings up all my deepest fears as well! Of not belonging, being judged… it is indeed a matter for me of choosing, daily, to step into connection.

<3
Kristin

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    yes yes yes! So what does it mean to belong- for you? What are the stories that tell you you don’t? Start listening for them and then start testing them out – because I seriously seriously doubt they have one ounce of truth in them.

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      Kristin Leonard - December 11, 2013

      Mmm… yes. Sometimes, they are stories of being “not enough” or “too much.”

      Belonging to me means being able to speak my truth and be held gently in it.

      It’s ok, I suppose, not to belong everywhere as long as I belong somewhere… and am open to expanding that circle of belonging. 🙂

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        jenlouden - December 11, 2013

        I LOVE your definition Kristen. I would add “Trusting your truth,” not to be THE truth but that it is yours, fully claimed and settled into. YES! You just gave me a piece for my program I’m going to offer based on the Life Organizer book, thank you!!

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          Kristin Leonard - December 11, 2013

          🙂

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          Kristin Leonard - December 11, 2013

          Yes, I like the idea of truth “fully claimed and settled into.” Embodied truth… which may speak, or be silent, sing, dance, cry, laugh…

          Reply
Tracie Nichols - December 11, 2013

I’m laughing as I write this. Had a huge internal kerfuffle with my insecurity when I popped over here to respond. Your post could have been describing almost any day of my life. How did I end up posting and not slinking away? Laughter. And falling in love with myself a little more because I could see the silliness in what what happening.

Thank you! I needed that shot of gentle humored reality this morning!

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    isn’t that amazing? how even commenting can bring up our stories? oh being a human, so endlessly fascinating. Thanks for belonging with me, darling.

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Susan Seale - December 11, 2013

yup…I think/know I am in the vulnerability group of desiring to belong, working hard so I don’t have time or energy to try to belong, wondering if I even belong to myself…

yup.

Thank you, Jen Louden, for taking the risk to put it into words for the rest of us. A feeling of relief is washing over me….woooooo

xo

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    you bet. Maybe I’ll start a movement “busy women coming out of hiding for connection” no networking allowed! LOVE!!!

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      Susan Seale - December 11, 2013

      LOL! Love it:)

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Cricket Desmarais - December 11, 2013

I love you Jen Louden. You are brave & beautiful & always offer just the right words when I most especially need them. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, which you have just helped make more open to the notion that loneliness will not always be so pervasive. Xooooo

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    it won’t be dear Cricket, we can dismantle it and heal those stories, yes we can!

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      Cricket Desmarais - December 11, 2013

      A la la la ho! Xo

      Reply
Beth Thompson - December 11, 2013

The desire to belong is really about belonging to myself first… wow. I am going to chew on that one all day long. It settles me, and makes me realize that all I have right now and all that I am right now is enough.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    me too Beth, me too!

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disqus_OdOJFJWLxp - December 11, 2013

Jen… I am flabbergasted that someone as Successful & Amazing as you are actually walks around with the same thought loops in her head. I…just…wow. I acknowledge your profound courage at sharing this, and I *THANK YOU* for letting me know that I am not alone, and there is hope beyond measure for my getting past the voices into a life where I belong more fully to mySelf.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    thanks for seeing my courage!!!!

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BJ - December 11, 2013

So wish i had something uniquely magical to write that will touch you in the same way your writings always seem to touch me. This particular writing moved me to tears. It is so hard to believe that “Jen Louden” could possibly feel the same way I do but time and time again you gently remind me (all of us) that you do. Thank you Jen for sharing yourself with the world. It is such a gift.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    your words are magical to me BJ!

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Sonja - December 11, 2013

I was at the vet’s office yesterday. Realized I was all up in my head and anxious about getting all my questions about my cat Calli answered. I noticed I wasn’t breathing much and what I really wanted was to be present and in my heart and connect with my vet whom I love. I stopped, felt my breath and just stayed with it and dropped into my heart (so quickly and easily actually, lol). I calmed down. I had a great time with the vet and Calli was more mellow than she’d ever been there too.

Thank you Jen for your willingness to be vulnerable and for articulating this process of separation from self so well. We all hunger for connection. It does seem to require our connection with ourselves first, funny that 🙂

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    mom mellow, Calli mellow!!

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Cara Brown - December 11, 2013

Gosh do I so relate to what you share! The voice says I’m not livng a “real” life, like I make up that everyone else is. All I do is work, says the voice. Sunday afternoon I was sitting in my mom’s little office that we’d set up as a gorgeous holiday gallery with all my new stuff. No one was there at the moment when my girlfirend texed me asking how Saturday went – “real quick” as she was about to go to a movie with her hubby and kids. I immediatley went to that *place*! Here I am, all alone, working – again, still, on a Sunday. Nevermind that I’d NEVER want to see the movie she was about to see! And that where I was surrounded by my creations, was pretty heavenly. I’ve lately been finding myself catching the moments when the voice says I don’t measure up and remembering how I don’t have to be perfect, have the answer, provide the solution, have it all together to be precious and perfect and be ok/safe. And that YOU say this, gives it all the more power – no one is immune! There is huge freedom for me there. Peace, ease, and even the capacity to chuckle at the voice. Thank you so much.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    chuckling together!

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Tonia Twigger McConnell - December 11, 2013

I have an alternative interpretation of the encounter at the retreat, and since you love the intensity, here goes . . . I wonder if it really is hiding you do. You ARE a self-care guru after all, and an artist, both which require time and space for creativity and temperance. And because you have created quite an enterprise everyone wants a piece of you. Not to speak of your rather compelling and disarming presence which likely makes most people you encounter want to be your best friend. Maybe what you have developed with your good work is the ability to discern which are the connections that fill you up and which are the ones that don’t. Even if all your days were wide open, you simply cannot connect with everyone.. What I hear is a story about someone who has figured out how to wisely select connections (you did go out of your way for the one that was most meaningful to you) and maintain boundaries to keep herself healthy. On the other hand I do love the way you explore and are willing to own your own stuff.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    oh I love that Tonia and I believe both are true. I like holding both!!!

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playcrane - December 11, 2013

Oh, Beauty-filled Jen!
You got me going this morning.

My response is on my blog:
http://playcrane.com/blog/2013/12/11/i-want-depth-a-response-to-jen-louden-a-response-to-you-a-response-for-me

XO,
Jodi

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    loved your post Jodi!

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Aine Dee - December 11, 2013

Wow – beautiful and courageous sharing. I just wrote a blog post in FB myself about suffering my own vanity and ageism and how it has kept me “hidden”. I know the hesitation to hit “post” or “send” and you are brave and generous in your sharing. We all need to hear how we share our humanness at all levels of “success”, age, visibility so we can encourage each other to politely listen, learn to be more amused than agonized, and not act on the conditioned mind rants that plague us all. Tears in my eyes for both your moments of struggle and your triumph! I am not alone. Thank you, Jen. We are not alone. Ever.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    yes and work with it until the stories fall away from the bones of our loneliness

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Kate Wolfe-Jenson - December 11, 2013

Thank you, Jen. Because you were willing to be vulnerable, I recognized myself and the tears came and I am more open and tender to all of us…even me. Thank you for reminding me it’s a story.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    thank you Kate for taking the time to tell me.

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Lori Danyluk - December 11, 2013

I really loved this post Jen. So authentic and vulnerable – and so much my experience as well. I so often feel that other people (especially those of you with a presence, following, and success under your belt) are totally comfortable with themselves, ultra confident, willing to show up, be seen and that it all comes easily. I’m so relieved! I know, of course, that I’m not the only one with all the unhelpful gremlins babbling away but somedays it feels like everyone but me has all their s%$& together. Thank you so so much for your honesty.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    thanks Lori, I appreciate that so much.

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Barb Burns Churchill - December 11, 2013

Oh my gosh, Jen, I can so relate to the “hard to keep connections because of work, …” I have struggled over the years to maintain deep friendships because I work from home and have 3 kids. Quite frankly, after a full day, I’m pooped and don’t feel like going out. I’ve had to push on many occasions to go – usually glad I went. What I’ve realized is that I love to cocoon – I’m a homebody. The people I most want to spend time with live in my house – and that’s ok. I do what I can and want to do – and leave the rest. I make lovely connections with the women I work with and sometimes I just need “me time” to center and ground myself. I love your courage to write about these experiences and share your vulnerability.

ps-the middle expansion thing – I’m there. Comes after entering your 50’s. Here’s my take – my legs look really good now! 😉

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    my legs aren’t so great either any more but my spirit! Fanfuckingtastic!

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Deb Reynolds - December 11, 2013

Jen, yes, yes, yes. And there are so many variations that can add to the story- chronic illness, not working… the list goes on. That’s of course if we buy into them, which of course I do – at times. Thanks for the reframe. And since you’re the perfect person for me to project my stories on (sorry for the hanging preposition), I can totally relate to that piece as well. x0x0x0x

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    thanks my dear!!!

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Pam - December 11, 2013

I have been diving in to exploring and changing my separation from the world for several weeks now, and this was the most perfect post for me today. How easy it is to think, “I’m the only one, everyone else does fine at connection with others.” If Jennifer Louden has some trouble with it, then I don’t have to feel so bad! Thank you so much for these healing words you’ve written.

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    jenlouden - December 11, 2013

    isn’t that funny! Glad to be of service Pam!

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Jo Casey - December 12, 2013

Oh thank you for this post. I read it with tight little ‘yes’s coming out of my heart. I get this. I get it when I tell myself I’m not funny enough, bright, chatty, interesting sociable enough. I’m awkward, I can’t make small talk, I’m not young, I’m not girly. The stories I tell myself hold me in place, tricking me into thinking its safety I’m after when really it’s connection all along.

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    jenlouden - December 12, 2013

    oh Jo, how beautiful “tricking me into thinking its safety I’m after when really it’s connection all along.” so so true. thank you, that will stick with me for a long time.

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Karen Moran - December 12, 2013

Hi Jen,
This reached out to my heart more than anything I have read from you previously. I was actually considering unsubscribing from your emails as I seriously need to whittle away at my inbox but you’ve got me for good now – real connection. I could sense your vulnerability in these words and the intense honesty was so refreshing. Oh my God how I can relate to everything you describe here . . . that little trigger that becomes an avalanche of negative self-talk – so damaging to our confidence and sense of belonging. As I wise up to the transient nature of that cruel voice it becomes ever so slightly easier to block it out and push through the barriers it creates.

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    jenlouden - December 12, 2013

    Thanks Karen, so glad I could connect with you on a deeper level. And yes, the more we see the cruel fearful voices in action, the more we can say “I see you” and CONNECT with those parts of ourselves that need it. It’s all connection!!!

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ca@coachca.com - December 12, 2013

Hi Jen,
How do you always write right from my heart? This is so where I’m at after 4 horrendous years, I don’t belong, I’ll never belong, get used to it, shut down. And then a phone call from an old love/best friend I haven’t seen in 30 years (he’s 2,000 miles away and married) reaching out, reminding, connecting, and so I make a phone call to an old friend I haven’t seen (she’s nearly 90 now) or talked to in a year; I kept waiting to have good news before I called, finally realized that wasn’t what connecting was about. (she scolded me so gently it felt like a caress). My best friend of almost 40 years emails to say she’s sorry she missed our weekly call she wasn’t feeling well (at 70 something she still runs a 60 acre farm) and so I take the time to look into the eyes of the girl with the please help sign standing in the freezing weather as I give her the few dollars I carry to share. Belonging isn’t always holding hands and singing Kumbaya with your tribe, sometimes its just the moment we reach out or take in. Thank-you Jen for another reminder. (some where God is chuckling yet again and saying “I told you so” with love)

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    jenlouden - December 12, 2013

    so beautiful!! that we were are hungry for it connection not in any particular pre-determinded form but simply the light of awareness meeting the light of awareness. so beautiful!

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T Thorn Coyle - December 12, 2013

Jen, wonderful story and amazing synchronicity. I wrote a post about this same topic yesterday – about the ways in which we shut ourselves out in the cold.

We can all find ways to invite ourselves – and others – inside to the warmth. But it takes the process you just shared with us, and for which I thank you. It takes seeing ourselves, and being seen. It takes courage, just a little bit. It requires taking a breath when we start to spiral too far out. We can call ourselves home. Over and over. And then we can turn that love toward others. If we’re always shivering, it is hard to keep each other warm.

So glad you keep on trying, and helping us to do the same.

blessings to you, as always.

– Thorn

(if anyone’s interested, here’s my piece: http://www.thorncoyle.com/blog/2013/12/11/an-invitation-in/)

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Susan Kuhn - December 12, 2013

Love this. It’s just about being in the moment. So simple…we always belong there. But those pesky stories keep their tentacles at the ready…thanks for the clear-sighted declaration of just swatting them back and returning to the eternal now, the place we always belong.

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    jenlouden - December 14, 2013

    Ah… so beautifully said Susan, yes yes yes!

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      Susan Kuhn - May 7, 2014

      Easier said than done. Just read this post and was shocked to see that I obviously read it before! 😉

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bonnierose - December 12, 2013

I find it hard belonging too… sometimes I feel I’m doing everything wrong when ppl don’t accept me as I am.. they always want me to be this way or that way. As a Christian who really is in love w Jesus and a true worshiper, this can be difficult. People always seem to think I am looking down on them when in fact, I’m not at all… I’m just trying to love them. I walk away sometimes feeling why do I bother? They act as if I’m the problem.. when all I’m trying to do is harvest harmony and unity. And they start accusing and blaming and I feel I have lost who I am. People can be mean and so hard hearted.. that’s the hardest part. xo
bonitarose

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    jenlouden - December 14, 2013

    I’m sorry Bontitarose, that sounds really hard. May it be easier in the future especially during this time of Christmas love.

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Lora Jansson - December 12, 2013

Yes. A big, big yes. I know this place so well, and it is haunted. I hide, too, and the courage of saying, “I hide” out loud really amazes me. I used to be an extrovert before life circumstances and health battles wore me down. I love teaching so much, and always feel wonderful after I spend time with smart, soul-alive people. And there are people I truly do enjoy and could see more of — potential for lasting, deep friendships and delightful acquaintances. This story is such an old one for me, I do not know how to stop telling it, although I continue to work with this (all the time) to gently stop telling it. I will be really musing on the thought that this is coming from the story of “I do not belong to myself.” That rings a bell, too, although muted and distant (which, to me, means there is dark truth here I am shying away from). This was an amazing write precisely because of its vulnerability, and because you are a good writer. Irony, there, for me. You are one of the writers I think about when I think of “real”writers. Your nonfiction is superb. And I, for one, am very much looking forward to your fiction. Thanks for this, Jen. I can’t help but wonder now if this is common?

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Cecelia Fresh - December 12, 2013

Absolutely beautiful, Jen! I can so relate to this “critic inside ourselves.” It’s funny how these particular events really turn up the contrast for us to SEE ourselves. I find that I, too, am and have been “hiding,” and separating myself from connection – as a “work from home’er.” And every time I make plans to go over to Seattle, I get really wound up…almost like I am nervous or something – and I struggle to find parking, and worry about making it on time, etc. The only insight I’ve had into those “moments,” was the contrast of the city girl I used to be and the peninsula girl I’ve become. They are different paces of life and living. And they blend about as well as oil and water. Though I can also see how we are literally, by land and water, “disconnected” from Seattle. The process of connecting or re-connecting is a tricky one, I think. In that, we have dwelled in the confines and shadows of being hidden/in retreat for some apparent reason, too. It just takes extreme patience with ourselves. And a huge dollop of forgiveness, lest we quiet that critic within.

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Connie Akers - December 13, 2013

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I have been blessed over much of my life to find my “tribe” to fit into & be reminded that I belong. In the last 2 years we have moved from our home of 25 years & very dear friends of my heart. We have been so focused on building our physical home I have neglected connecting & have felt lost & lonely. I have found myself shrinking into my insecurities. Your reminder is a push to get up & out & into myself. Blessings for your honesty & willingness to share.

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    jenlouden - December 14, 2013

    Can’t wait to hear the new connections you weave Connie!

    Reply
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[…] man. This piece from Jennifer Louden. Wow. That’s it. […]

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GailGaspar - December 14, 2013

Beautiful vulnerability in this post, Jen. You introduced me to Dani Shapiro through Shero’s Journey and I soaked up two of her books since.

I believe we sense “belonging” in direction proportion to how we show up for ourselves. It is much easier to project perfection onto others and find tatters
in our selves than to accept our own imperfections. We get better at it through the intentional practice of showing up as we are and resetting as many times as it takes. Thanks for taking us through your process.

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[…] Jen says it well: “I remember my desire to belong isn’t just the desire to belong to my community but my deep desire to belong to myself.” […]

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Maria Hake - January 16, 2014

Thank you!!! ♥

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Jackie Lesser - January 20, 2014

Hi Jen, Thanks for this post. I’ve been meaning to respond for a month. I don’t usually chime in but this felt like a bigger invitation and a leap. Writing is one of my learning edges. What I want to share is that for five decades, I’ve been longing to belong…Longing to belong was an idea, a perception of what it wold feel like to be the image I had for myself and the ones that I believed others had of me. I realize now that belonging is a given. We are born in to the human race. We belong no matter what. All this time, I was confusing trying to belong with trying to “fit in”. we may not all-ways fit in 🙂 and that’s ok. It’s what makes the tapestry of humankind so intricate and beauty-full. However, we can choose to relate to each other as human beings. And when we do, we can remember to hold “this truth to be Self evident, that all (wo)men are created equal”, we can move beyond longing to belong, to feeling the sense of belonging that is rightly ours. Espavo!

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    jenlouden - January 20, 2014

    so beautiful and so true!

    Reply
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