I’m Like a Bird

“I only fly away… I don’t know where my soul is… I don’t know where my home is.” You know the song, don’t you? I pretty well hated birds until I turned thirty (chickens can still get wrecked, though, but that’s a topic for another time) and yet, this song has always hit a little too close to home for me—heh—and not just because I sing like a bird.

Depending on when you ask me, I might give another answer, but if given enough time to think it over, I think if my life (as a whole) had a theme, it would likely be that song. Which, is also hilarious in it’s own way because the song probably speaks to most as a ballad about commitment issues. And since leaving Christianity and all of its unrealistic relationship ideals, that might be the one problem I don’t have. If anything, I’m a little too good at committing. I’ve described myself as a “serial monogamist” on more than a few occasions.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t eventually “fly away.” Because I will… until I find my home. She doesn’t say that in the song, but it’s also clear she hasn’t found home yet. And neither have I… but I’ve gotten close.

I always had a really small family—it was just the three of us—and growing up in the country, that was odd. Not only do most people have multiple kids, but they’ve got their whole extended family down the street, or, at most, a county over. Most people’s first friends are their cousins. Both of my parents also worked for most of my life. One of my parents never really took the time for me, and the other passed last year. Our relationship had gone a bit sour, but ultimately, I knew he still loved and cared about me and believed in me more than anything. And he was only ever just a phone call away. That was comforting. I wish, now, I’d called him more.

The houses I’ve lived in have never felt quite like home, neither have the towns. I’ve always believed that home, to me, would be more of a person than a place. I don’t know why it took him passing for me to realize this, but I think my dad, in a lot of ways, was my home for the first half of my life. And now that our connection has been severed, I just feel so lost. I love my mom, but more often than not, her love feels much more conditional. She doesn’t have the patience to deal with me. Not like my dad did. To be fair, even he didn’t after his stroke. I think I’ve felt a bit home-less for many years now.

In the song, she expresses that she believes she’ll change, and while it’s said as a negative thing, I think that it’s a fact of life. I’m not the same person I was 5 years ago. I’ve grown since then. I don’t make the same stupid mistakes, I make different (but still stupid) ones. I don’t have all of the same interests as I once did. And I’m sure I’ll pick up and lose a few more before my time is up. But, if there’s one lesson from Christianity that I’ve kept… it’s that you need a partner that will grow with you. I don’t need perfection, but I need someone who will put as much effort into themselves and the relationship as I do.

That doesn’t mean that everything is exactly even, much like the song 100 by Ella Mae, I think partnerships fluctuate. Some days I feel like I have endless love and patience to give. Others, though, I get weighed down by life’s many obligations and stressors. Who can be positive all of the time? Surely, no one can. Lately, I’ve had so many different things on my mind, so many intertwining problems that positivity feels nearly impossible, though, I still have days where I wake up on my bullshit and I feel like the biggest catch. I wish I had more of those days, honestly.

I’m very introspective, perhaps a little too introspective—and my current career doesn’t help with that. There are days when things feel so difficult and I struggle so hard that I forget all the little lessons I’ve learned. On those days, I need someone to help steady me and remind me that I’m human. Because, while I often have an endless supply of grace for other people, I forget to dole it out to myself too. It can be all too easy for me to fall into a negative spiral without someone to help ground me. For a good portion of my life, it’s made me feel weak that I can’t just be everything for myself. But, really, who is?

Life is all about balance. And I think balance is probably impossible to achieve by yourself. We all have moments when we’re weak and need someone else to help us pick ourselves back up again. Someone to believe in us when we don’t believe in ourselves. Some days my brain is all emotions and I need someone to logic me back to Earth. Occasionally, I need someone to allow me to feel my feelings and just tell me things will be okay.

When it comes down to it, I love too hard. When I love you, I’ll do anything for you, often at my own expense. I’ll do things for you I struggle to do for myself, even. But I don’t know how to love less—to be less—than I am. I’ve learned through experience that people can and will take advantage of that if I let them. The worst part, is, though, that I often don’t even realize it’s happened until I’m so burnt out and exhausted that I finally crash, looking around myself like “I was just fine, I swear,” but I wasn’t fine. I was doing too much and my partner was doing too little. Sometimes my love is just a little too blind.

So, through the years, I’ve developed a system of defenses. Hoops I make people jump through before I let them all the way in. Sometimes they’re even a bit too strong, maybe. But I’ve just been burned so many times, it can be hard to know who to trust. So many people I trusted implicitly have let me down. I think I’ve gotten better at it, but sometimes I forget to even trust myself. So often I doubt my intuition, and then when it turns out my instinct was correct, I tell myself I’ll never do it again. But I do. And I think that’s one thing I’ve never quite found, someone who also trusts my intuition. Sure, when the dust settles they may say “I really should listen to you more,” but do they ever?

When I’m in love, I all but worship the ground you walk on. Everyone else in the world just pales in comparison, so it’s easy for me to be loyal. Once, after making a few friends who were poly, I convinced myself I probably could be too. That was pretty dense of me, in retrospect. I can see that very clearly now. My brain shuts down all other romantic connections without my even thinking about it. It’s almost downright laughable to me, thinking about it. How was that ever going to work? I have no idea.

While I have a big heart, I still feel hard to love. I suppose I’m not the easiest to deal with all the time. I feel too much. I can be a bit melodramatic (usually jokingly) and many people struggle to understand my sarcasm or sense of humor. But, I believe that someday someone will. I still have hope that I’m going to find my home—someone I can build my own family with. After all, I think the most heteronormative thing about me is that I’ve always been very motherly—a trait I think I got from my dad, ironically enough. I like taking care of people and teaching people new things. I really just can’t help myself.

When it comes to the lyric about finding her soul, I have to say that one makes sense to me, too. For so many years I tried to deny how caring I am. I tried to put on a cold, hard exterior that only my partner ever saw through. I’m pretty glad I’ve passed that point in my life. But, sometimes that bitch still comes out to play… mostly when I’m scared. I think this is the part where I relate to her song the most. She even says “I’m just scared that we may fall through,” and wow, that feels familiar.

I think this city may be the closest I’ve ever gotten to feeling at home someplace. But, I’ve also imagined living in any number of different cities, or perhaps living on the road in some format. I love the idea of traveling, though I’ve rarely had the money to go very far. And if you take away the packing and loading/unloading of all my shit, I love moving. I love a fresh start. I might be one of the only people I know that actually enjoys change (I mean, within reason, of course). I’ll tell just about anybody that moving here was the best thing I ever did… even though it was also the most terrifying.

I think when I finally do find my home, I might be just as terrified. What if some of the best things in life just are terrifying? Perhaps the things that are most worth having aren’t necessarily the most easily won. That feels true. If it is, only time will tell. I think it’s scary, though, because I’m afraid to get my hopes up again. Maybe I’m even afraid of being happy. It’s some kind of self-defeating bullshit, for sure, but what if I’ve gotten so used to being miserable that I won’t even know happiness when I see it? The truth is, I’m tired of being in pain. I’m even more tired of causing pain. I dread having to break up with someone again. It just makes me feel so horrible. And it rarely goes well.

And that brings me to my final point… I’m almost always the one to do it. I think, perhaps, it’s because I do care so much and I do want to help so much. And then, when I finally realize that I’m putting in more effort in the relationship, my ex-partner feels like the rug has been pulled completely out from under them. It seems like such a drastic change. But it wasn’t, it was slow. So slow and subtle that even I didn’t notice that I was unhappy. Until it became impossible to ignore. Recently, however, I realized that by doing so much, I’m blocking my partner from learning their own lessons. After all, sometimes pain is the best teacher. I think this is where we come back to my point of needing someone to grow with me.

Too often, I think, I’ve convinced myself that I can grow enough for the both of us—but that just isn’t realistic. And even if it were, it’s not fair to me. And then, when the breakup comes, it’s not fair to them, because they have now missed out on all of these lessons they should’ve been learning, but I “learned” for them. It all comes down to me doing too much. I’m always doing too much. In my personal life, in my work life. It’s like someone once told me to work hard and I took them WAY too seriously and made it my whole personality. But I’m tired. I don’t want to do all the work anymore.

Not only do I want the help, but I need it. I cannot do everything. I cannot be your everything. We need to be there for each other, and damnit, I need you to be there for me too. Because that’s the one thing I can always promise. I will be there for you, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain. But if I realize that I’m exhausting myself on your behalf, or that you are not growing alongside me, I will eventually feel the need to fly away again. I always try to fix things first, but so often it feels like I’m the only one trying. And, honestly, even after that—as long as the person doesn’t truly fuck up—I’m still there for you, just not quite like before. I can’t just stop caring about a person like that. Sometimes, I just realize they’re not my person.

So, the truth is, that the next person I love is not going to have it easy. They’re going to have to fight for me at least a little, just to prove that they can. Because, for once, I know what I need. I need to feel loved, I need that emotional connection, I need real communication. I need to know that I’m not alone. I’m so tired of feeling alone. I’m tired of feeling like no one understands me. I’m, really, just tired. I’m so very, very tired. I don’t want to do all the chores, I don’t want to do all the emotional heavy lifting, I don’t want to do all the wooing. Damnit, I want someone to woo me, for once. I want to know you’ll work as hard for me as I will for you.

Because, when it comes down to it, I want a family, and I can’t bring myself to actually start one with you if I’m only picking up more responsibilities for myself. I just can’t do it. And I don’t think I’ll be happy anymore without children. I don’t need them immediately, but eventually, yeah, I want to adopt. I don’t know why, I’ve just always known that’s the path for me. As a child, even, long before I realized I wasn’t cis. And now, the idea of carrying around a giant belly for 9 months makes my skin crawl. I just got comfortable with my body, don’t ask me to change it again.

I honestly don’t even know why or who I’m writing this for other than me, but it just feels like something I’ve been cooking up for years now—and, to be fair, I started this post and abandoned it well over a week ago, only to finish it up now when I have an excess of motivation, for some reason. It’s just that every time I hear this song, I’m reminded of myself. Every time I go through a breakup, here it comes again. I’m tired of flying. When do I finally touch the ground? I want to build something, for once, together this time.