My life started on a cold January day in 1975. I was born into a family consisting of a Mom, a Dad.
Two years later my sister joined our small family.
A year later the family that I was born into no longer existed.
Mom and Dad went their separate ways. Dad remarried. Mom remarried as well and took on a new last name.
Soon after, I started Kindergarten. While my stepfather had not adopted me, they registered me with his last name for the sake of ease.
For the next seven years there were two families, two last names. The school year was spent as the “new” me, and the summer was spent being the me that was the name I was born into. I was not sure exactly where I belonged, but we made it work somehow.
The summer after my grade seven year my Mom and stepfather went their separate ways. I was starting high school and we registered me with my legal name. My maiden name. My elementary school friends would refer to me with my recently discarded last name. The new people I met knew me with my legal last name. Some people could not figure out who I really was.
Neither could I.
In addition to having a name identity crisis I had just a plain identity crisis.
I had chubby thighs, frizzy hair and blue tinted glasses. I wanted to be one of the Cool And Beautiful People. I was not born into that genre of people but I so desperately wanted to be part of their special world. I was shy, and awkward. Socially confused. I neglected friends I had held since grade one in favour of spending time with any of the Cool And Beautiful People who would allow me to.
I thought my plan was working. They liked me, they really liked me. Or so I thought.
One afternoon one of my new “friends” invited me to join her at the park. We were soon joined by a group of the Cool And Beautiful People. They did not look so friendly that day.
They told me that I was not worthy of their friendship. That I was ugly. That I was a loser. That I did not belong with them. That I should disappear.
So I did.
Summer vacation was the next week and I went to my Dad’s like I did every summer. While I was there I met Jesus. He healed my wounded heart. While the wounds were healed, the scars remained. I still felt like I did not belong anywhere.
This feeling of not belonging followed me. While my Dad and his new family are my family, the age difference between my younger siblings and I made me feel more of a second Mom to them rather than a sister. I felt loved, and part of the family, but that I was a square peg in a round hole.
The remainder of high school was far less traumatic than that grade eight year had been. I got contacts. I lost weight. I discovered hair product. All of a sudden I was one of the Cool And Beautiful People without even trying to be. Even still, I did not feel like I belonged. I felt like a fraud that would soon be found out.
I graduated, went to Bible College, made some life long friends. I moved to Vancouver and wandered for a while. Still not belonging anywhere.
I got back on track with God, with my faith. I built deeper friendships. I was part of an amazing church family and to an outstanding group of friends. Those friends were my family in that big and cold city. Those friends started to move on, to grow up and to get married.
They belonged. I did not. I felt like I was on the outside looking in. As I always had been.
Then one day I happened to sit next to a tall Dutch man at church. That moment turned into dinner, into dates, into an engagement. Six months from that moment when he sat next to me, we vowed to be together forever. ‘Til death do us part.
After twenty-five years of feeling loved, but alone…of feeling like I was part of a family, yet a stranger…of feeling that God loved me but was not quite sure where to place me…I was home. I belonged. To God, to Matthew, to our family.
When I look back on the road that brought me to that day I finally understand what my journey was for. While wandering that rocky path I would often wonder why I simply did not belong anywhere. What was the purpose of all of my heartache?
I believe that my journey made me the woman I am today. A woman who trusts her God completely. Who loves here husband more than words could ever adequately express. Who marvels at the fact that she has the most phenomenal children that this world has ever seen.
A woman who finally belongs.
That is so awesome!
I am both crying and filled with joy at the same time!
God is so AMAZING!
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I”m so happy for you, your family is beautiful.
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This is a wonderful post, Angella. What a beautiful family you have created!
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I had chills Angella….an amazing post!
You have always been one of the cool and beautiful people whether you felt like it or not because of who you are.
I am so happy that you found your place and what a wonderful place it is, your beautiful family.
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Fantastic post Ange. I have goosebumps. I’m glad you found your spot in this big wide world.
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Well said, Angella.
I always get a kick out of Emily’s thousand yard stare.
Cracks me up every time.
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OMG!!! Goosey bumps here….very powerful post. I too was born 8&11 years before my sibs, I often felt like I looked like I was the babysitter that was with the family, or was mistaken for my Dads wife, if my Mom was not there. It was Mel, and “the kids”, it is truly miraculous when you slip into your place in this world, thats for sure. Mel
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So well written, Angella! Family really is “home.”
It is so great that you can share this story. I feel like I understand you better, and I can relate. My parents are still together, but we moved around a good amount. There were many times in my life when I felt ugly, unwanted by friends, the butt of jokes… so lonely.
Now I have two little girls follow me wherever I go, who think I’m pretty cool
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That’s beautiful, Angella. I’m so inspired by your family and even more so for the fact that you worked hard to get where you are. As always, your love and devotion to your husband and children is beautiful.
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wow. We have very similar stories (including the Dutchman!)
My parents divorced young and I kept my dad’s name until my mom remarried and although it wasnt legally changed, that is the neame I held for years. Until I had to go live with my dad at 14. He registered me for school (I guess it was easy back then) with his last name. Growing up from age 14 on, I thought that was legally my last name. No one had told me any different. After moving back here and having to use a different last name again it was hard. I understand your story. I found out my name had never been legally changed (when I applied for a new birth certificate when I was 22) Talk about feeling like “I still dont know who I am” and in my case a swamp of secrets and hidden agends between parents. One of the reason I went through such a difficult time with passports, because I have ID in 3 names!
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What a beautiful post!!
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I’m glad God brought you on your journey to the place where you belong. And yet…we are not home yet….
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Wow. I know I comment with that word a lot, but WOW! Isn’t God awesome? Isn’t family awesome?
It’s amazing how those challenging years can mold you, hey?
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Thank you Angella….There is an enormous power in sharing your story. Or rather, an enormous power that works thru it. For years I thought I was the only girl to have multiple last names and an identity crisis. Apparently not! Blessings to you…
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So glad you have a place to belong. And I’d say you are definitely in with the beautiful people there.
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Goosebumps… that’s a great post.
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Beautiful. God is good!
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That was a really great post.
And, I really love you!
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Wow…It’s amazing how when you trust in God things do work out! I’ll have you know that I am one of many people, I’m sure, who consider you cool and beautiful – inside and out!
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Really beautiful. Thanks for always being open and authentic – I think you speak to lots of people in more ways that you know.
Also….I too am married to a tall dutch man. I they’re a great breed
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annnd…that last comment was supposed to read : I THINK they’re a great breed…..
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That was a very lovely post from the heart, thanks for sharing.
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That was wonderful to read. Loneliness (implied in there?) can be so difficult, and it looks like you found a wonderful husband. On a shallower note, I can’t believe a person with such depth can LOOK as great as you do!! I can only hope to grow to be that stunning!!
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Wow, what a story! And what an amazing God we serve! I too have felt that unbelonging feeling. First from my father, then school ‘friends’ and trying to fit into the ‘world’. It really is a long and complicated story, but I agree with you, now that I have my oun little family, I know I belong with them!
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I’m glad you’ve found your place, richly blessed.
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It’s amazing how badly I needed to read this, exactly this, tonight. Thank you for baring your soul, for writing this. I am so glad you were lost but now you are found, truly. You are so loved. xoxo
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Man, your family is GORGEOUS.
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thanks for sharing your story…you look totally ripped in that pic! wow!!
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That was a moving post … beautifully written. Thank you for sharing.
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i’m so happy that you found your place in the world. my story is kinda the opposite. i loved elementary school…had close friends and we all went to the same highschool…loved highschool…my family was really tight knit…
i NOW sometimes feel like i don’t really belong in the “group” of mothers and wives. feel like i’m faking that i’m know what i’m doing. i don’t like cooking…don’t like cleaning…often just feel like ordering takeout and vegging in front of the computer or tv. i’m 33 years old and still feel like a teenager…wanting someone else to do the household stuff!
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This is so lovely.
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I just got chills. Beautiful post, Angella.
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Growing up is so hard to do.
Well put. Thank you for sharing.
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What a beautifully written post. I think there are so many of us that could completely relate with much of what you wrote.
Thank you.
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From one formerly chubby thighed, frizzy-haird reject that still doesn’t quite belong, I hear you.
I envy the peace you have, but I’m working on finding out where I fit. Hopefully, I get there.
P.S.
Once again, DANG your family is gorgeous.
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What a wonderful entry! It is amazing how long those feelings of not belonging can linger…but wonderful how even the deepest of scars can eventually be healed.
God bless.
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I love this post. Truly beautiful.
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I have goosebumps, but also this warm fuzzy feeling spreading all the way to my toes.
I think you could have described a lot of how I felt. I LOVED my parents and they LOVED me, but they LOVED each other to a degree I couldn’t touch – and somehow I felt left out.
I was the same in school as you – searching, always feeling like an outsider.
And then…Jeff.
I get this.
This is beautiful.
So beautiful.
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