Alone in the Wilderness
By: Macall Janis
Tags: Bravery, Strength, Brene Brown, Vulnerability, Community

I cried again last night. I’m not talking about a little tear here and there, a little sniffle that’s easily wiped away. I am talking gasping for air, boogers sliding down my face, full out sob fest. I don’t quite know why my emotions have been so high and low and every where in between lately, but once again, last night as I started talking with Damon, the pain crept its way back to the forefront of my mind and into every part of my heart.

For the vast majority of my life, I did not have to feel this type of pain. I made friends very easily growing up, I always had family members to turn to, I never truly experienced the feelings of being alone. A few years ago I was introduced to this pain. It was shocking how much it hurt. And clearly, it still shocks me when I feel it now. I took for granted the ease and peace that is in one’s life when they have a good network of friends and family members cheering them on, when they never have to question where they belong or who they can turn to in any sort of situation, a place where they can easily express their hearts and trust that it won’t be received with a blaring silence.

I first felt the pain of loneliness when I came home from mission. So much of me had changed and I struggled navigating the old parts with the new. I hadn’t communicated very well with my friends during our 18 months apart, and it felt that there was a gap of separation that had been formed during that time. Over the years, I have worked really hard to fill that gap back in, but I believe that some of my personal decisions open it right back up. As I have reached out for connection, I have simultaneously taken a backhoe and dug a deeper even more intimidating pit, leaving everyone feeling a little unsure of how to proceed forward.

When we bought our first home I was excited over the idea that I would put down my roots and make some close connections with the other women in our neighborhood. There was another young mom right across the street. When she first moved in, both us and our husbands seemed to be hitting it off so well. We had a handful of dinners together and the more time we spent together, the more I kept wanting to share the deep parts about myself and the things really going on in my life. At one point, the discussion of therapy came up, and we somehow made this agreement that if I went to see a therapist, she too, would seek help. I took to heart this new connection I was making, thinking that I had a real friend to go through even the really yucky hard parts of life. (ya know the parts we tend to filter off of social media) As I excitedly reported back to her that I was seeing a therapist, there was an abrupt cut off to our relationship. For reasons that I will never really know the friendship ended there and we quickly stopped talking to one another. It left me with a shock of rejection and insecurity that I had never experienced before.

While still living in that neighborhood, I was hopeful that somehow I could still make other friends. I had a few, ok I had two women, that I would consider real friends from my time there. However, I always felt that I was just not a good fit for the vibe of what women were like there. Every mom just seemed so happy and fulfilled by their kids, and I was struggling with the reality that I was not. I listened to other moms talk about the stay at home mom life during dinners and other social gatherings like it was the absolute next greatest thing to Disneyland. They adored their children, thrived from being home 24/7, and seemed to love the challenges that came with the territory. I simply could not get myself to feel similarly. I wanted more, I wanted time, I wanted space, I wanted to do *something*. I just couldn’t find the feelings of progress and excitement that I so desperately crave. I didn’t feel like I had used my brain or talents in what felt like years and I was starving for something that would set me apart from the rest. My ambition felt like it had been slowly whittled away leaving behind a pretty despondent Macall.

As I faced all of these feelings, I decided over time to make two very big changes. I stopped going to church. Church and the cultural beliefs around women, kill me. And I know that some think and feel differently, but for me, it’s a simple no. And here are some resources to sort of explain what I’m trying so desperately to talk about: https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2007/10/mothers-who-know?lang=eng and https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/eternal-marriage-student-manual/mothers-employment-outside-the-home?lang=eng The words and thoughts that are shared in both of these different links had (and somedays still have) a very haunting impact on me and my beliefs about myself. Soo am I not a real god loving woman? What is wrong with me? Why can’t I be happy and fulfilled by the tasks of motherhood and homemaking? This is literally what I was created to do!! I still don’t really know why these things don’t make me happy and I still don’t know why my personality feels so different than what they describe, but because of that I had to change. I had to stop. I had to do something outside of the prescribed methods because it wasn’t what I needed to be a happy, whole person. The other change I made was going back to school and studying political science. I had no idea of the changes that this field of study would bring about in me personally. When I initially started out on this path I thought Yeah! Let’s learn about the structure of government! Woo, let’s study America! hahaha oh how naive I was. In my first semester back, I was finally exposed to the ideas of feminism. Now you have to understand that up until this point, I had proudly proclaimed that feminism was bad! It thought it was soo unnecessary and believed all feminists to just be angry women who couldn’t get married or something. That simply was not true, and as I read and studied more, I felt a deep connection between me and what a lot of original feminists expressed. They too, didn’t like being home all day doing laundry and cleaning. They too, didn’t feel like their talents were best being used by staying home with the kids. For the first time in a long time, I felt understood. As each semester has greeted me with new ideas, historic figures, and important details that I had never been taught before, my political ideology has totally shifted.

I was raised within a beautiful, religious, conservative community. It was filled with some of my closest friends and kindest neighbors. It gave me a foundation to believe in myself and to know that I am capable of doing great things. Facing my feelings, I stepped out of the safety of that community. I took a step away from the bonds, that for most of my life, had kept us so intimately connected. And now I am alone in the wilderness. It can feel dark, looming, and terrifying. It can leave me questioning every decision that I have made to lead me here. It can have me sobbing to my husband late at night as I crave to belong somewhere. But I also know, that this is necessary for me.

“Belonging so fully to yourself that you’re willing to stand alone is a wilderness — an untamed, unpredictable place of solitude and searching. It is a place as dangerous as it is breathtaking, a place as sought after as it is feared. The wilderness can often feel unholy because we can’t control it, or what people think about our choice of whether to venture into that vastness or not. But it turns out to be the place of true belonging, and it’s the bravest and most sacred place you will ever stand.” — Brene Brown.