Where do I belong?

Still Searching

Ever since I learned how to write, there hasn’t been a single day when I haven’t expressed myself through writing.

How my day went, how I’m feeling, an argument with a friend, something new I bought, heartbreak, feeling amazing, feeling terrible, something that happened at school, something that happened at home. I wrote pages and pages. I never stopped. I filled dozens of notebooks. When I couldn’t find a notebook, I wrote on my phone, sometimes on the back of a book I was reading, sometimes on a napkin. Maybe it’s my way of letting everything out.

Today, I’m writing here.

I’ve shared my feelings on social media many times before—I have absolutely no shame about it; it’s not like millions of people are reading, listening to, or watching me. I recorded podcasts, filmed videos, but none of them felt as good as writing. And now, at a moment when I feel completely lost, I told myself, “What do you have to lose, İrem? Just keep walking.” So I am.

The truth is, I’ve been walking for a long time.

The problem is that I don’t know where I’m walking to.

Nine months ago, I moved to France. I’m only here for a year, and there isn’t much time left. Throughout this experience—sometimes, actually, all the time—I kept asking myself whether I had planned my next step. I have this bad habit of never being able to leave things to chance. I always want to know how things end. I want certainty. It feels safer that way, because we’re talking about my life.

I read books and watched movies. Whenever I saw a main character completely change their life, I wanted to applaud them through tears. I’ve always thought that not being tied to a place or a person is one of the bravest things someone can do.

Coming here felt like a step in that direction. A huge step, at least for me.

My life changed, and it’s still changing.

As much as that change can be terrifying, every time I notice it, something awakens inside me that I can’t quite describe. I’m happy, but at the same time I’m shaking from stress. I can’t tell whether the feeling in my stomach comes from excitement or fear.

One of the words I use most often in my life is probably “I don’t know.”

Because everything I experience seems to have two sides. And whenever I talk to someone, whenever I explain what I’m going through, I get asked: “How did that make you feel?” or “What are you going to do?”

That’s when I get lost.

Which answer am I supposed to give?

There can’t be many things harder than trying to make a decision while feeling two completely opposite emotions at the same time.

While searching for answers, I traveled.

Partly because I was looking for those answers, and partly because I was trying to find where I belonged.

But I’ve reached a point where the place I once believed I belonged to now feels like nothing more than a nostalgic place filled with memories.

When I went back to visit my family for a week, I couldn’t make sense of what I was feeling. For twenty-three years, I thought I belonged to my city, my home. But everything I’ve lived through has slowly pulled me away from it.

I have to go back in September.

Every time I remember that, my stomach twists.

I’m not saying I dislike where I come from—that would be deeply unfair. But in these nine months, I’ve lived through so many things, and every single one of them has been valuable. Just when I think I’ve found my place, something even better comes along.

Life really is full of surprises.

And feeling distant from my hometown almost makes me feel as if I’m betraying my memories.

Because the İrem I am now is the same girl who cried for months when she first had to move away. Back then, I was terrified. I thought I’d never see my friends again. I thought I’d lose the streets I knew by heart, the casual conversations with my neighbors, everything familiar.

But after only a month, I stopped missing it.

In fact, I forgot almost everything.

Now, when I look at old photos, I smile.

There’s still a bittersweet feeling somewhere inside me, but maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. And maybe that’s why I love change.

We’re human. Maybe it’s simply in our nature.

Sometimes the best thing we can do is remember things with a bittersweet smile.

Anyway, back to my journey.

The road ahead looks long.

I can’t see where it ends.

I make decisions, then change my mind. I make mistakes, then fix them. I stumble forward, trying to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong.

Every day, I remind myself not to become too attached to anything.

Because for twenty-three years, I already was.

Like I said, I took a huge step.

And I keep taking those huge steps.

Every day, I try to push myself a little farther from my comfort zone. I try to overcome the language barrier. I do things I once thought I could never do on my own.

Maybe it’s unhealthy, and maybe it contradicts my search for a place to belong, but whenever I get too comfortable somewhere, I find myself wanting to move away from it.

Sometimes I feel like I’m becoming a completely different person on this journey.

Maybe, by the time I reach the end of it, I’ll have removed the entire idea of a “place where I belong” from my life.

I don’t know. :)