It is a sad state of affairs to reach your 40s and realise you don't really belong anywhere. I have spent my life trying to fit in, like everyone else, I suppose. But am I seriously the only adult who feels she hasn't been able to move past adolescence when it comes to belonging in the world?
In my personal life I of course belong in my family and friendship groups, and to my kids. But there's always been, and probably will always be other people in their lives who take priority, and I don't begrudge them that. That's life, I totally get it.
And then there's being an Australian when you're really not. I don't really follow the true australian traditions, footy, barbeques, kinda lost on my vegetarian soccer indoctrinated brain.
So maybe my profession gives me my sense of belonging. You'd think that, but as the odd one out all the time, I honestly cannot claim to be your average doctor. And since a close intimate relationship has eluded me, where do I fit in?
I am starting to think there will never be an answer to this question, not in my lifetime. Do others feel like this? Is it because I'm a migrant, forever transplanted and never properly grafted onto the host plant that is this new country? I thought 42 was meant to be the meaning of life, and yet I find there is no such thing, there is no meaning, you make your own.
And I struggle to do that amid all the surviving that takes up all my time.
I still get up every morning and hope, that's what keeps me going, the hope of an epiphany, an illuminated magical pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, a kindred spirit running towards me with understanding and a willingness to listen.
And yet I lose hope.
I think maybe just my dreams and my imagination keep that alive. That'll do.
Prose, poetry, thoughts by an Adelaide author who happens to also be a GP and sole parent
Tuesday, 1 August 2017
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