Moving is hard. If you never have, it’s not something to take lightly. I haven’t moved nearly as many times as some people, but I have lived in 6 different towns since 2006. Of those moves, my oldest has lived in three different towns in her 12 years on this planet. Three different schools. And again, some kids move more often because of their parents jobs.
For my children, this last move wasn’t terrible. My oldest began 6th grade in her new town, and it was hard. Coming into a new school at that age, where other kids have been together 5 years already, is not easy. She was lucky to be placed in the homeroom she was, and the group of classmates there took her in. She has since made good friends that she can count on, has been included in the JV/Varsity soccer team this year (7th grade) and seems to be tracking along. The younger two kids make friends easy enough. My story is completely different…
When we first got here, I was connected to a few people by someone at my husband’s new job. Their job was solely to connect new spouses to the city. I was thrilled! I had deep connections in our precious location that I was devastated to leave. So, being introduced within two weeks to new people made me think it would all be ok. And at first, it was. Through this new connection, I met several people, all who had kids going to my kids brand new school. I got information about programs at the new school and dove head first into all the things, so I could try to make roots.
I have everything 110%. I tried so hard to fit in. But no matter how hard I tried to do all the things, I still seemed to be missing out. I started seeing groups of moms doing fun things together that I wasn’t aware of. I quickly began to realize that most of these groups have been together for the last 5+ years, and had developed their own roots or connections that were strong. Too strong to include outsiders. Most of the people here had gone to high school in the areas, and college together. So much history that I was not included in, so that means so many traditions they already have that they don’t share.
Recently, my husband pointed out that he feels I am reaching out to help other people before helping my own family. I admitted to him that I was trying so hard to fit in, that I didn’t even realize I was letting things slip that I should care about. I have put myself out there to try and help so many things at the school, our church, and other local things just so I could find a connection here. And yet, I still see so many events with those “friends” I thought I was a part of, where I wasn’t invited or even heard of the event. I feel so much more of an outsider now than ever before, and we have been here a year and a half.
Hard truth: I have allowed the things of this world consume me. I have let people try to fill my void where I should give up to God. So first move is to “mute” people on Facebook that always share the things I am not included in. Second is to start pulling back from events where I am giving my all to others in front of my family. I cried today because of the hurt I feel. And I am ashamed that I feel that way. I am ashamed that I allowed myself to make a space that people need to feel, when I know that only God can fully satisfy my needs. I know these things. But, I will say, it still really hurts to not feel connected.
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