Content Warnings: Depression, therapy, lack of belonging
Hi,
I don’t know if this is something people talk about enough, but the truth is, I’ve struggled with depression for years. I think a big part of it comes from the fact that I’ve never really felt a sense of belonging anywhere. Growing up, I moved constantly—different cities, different schools, always saying goodbye and starting over. And now, as an adult, that sense of not truly belonging anywhere still lingers. When I went to college and started living on my own, I thought I’d finally have the chance to create a space that felt like mine. At first, I would try. I’d hang up posters, arrange my furniture, and maybe put a few decorations around the room to make it feel more like “home.” But then, reality would creep back in: This is temporary. You’ll be packing up again soon. And with that thought, I’d lose the motivation to keep decorating. The space would remain half-finished, an odd reflection of my own hesitation to settle in, because, deep down, I didn’t believe it was worth it. Why put down roots when you’re always on the move?
In college, this pattern repeated itself every time I moved to a new dorm or apartment. I’d unpack the essentials, but I wouldn’t invest in making the place truly feel like mine. It was like I was always holding back, always preparing for the next transition. And that feeling didn’t go away after graduation.
A few years ago, I started therapy, hoping it would help me make sense of this weight I’ve been carrying. My therapist and I have talked a lot about this pattern, how my instinct to hold back, even in the smallest ways, is a learned reaction from years of moving around and letting go of places and people. And while therapy has helped me understand the roots of my depression, it hasn’t erased the feeling of being untethered. I still have days where I wonder if I’ll ever find a place that feels like home.
Recently, I’ve started building small routines to bring myself a sense of stability, even in temporary spaces. It might sound small, but going to the same café every weekend or taking a daily walk around my neighborhood helps remind me that I can create a little bit of consistency, even if it’s just for now. I’m learning that “home” doesn’t have to be a fully decorated space or a place with deep roots—it can be as simple as finding comfort in a familiar corner of the world.
And when I feel particularly adrift, I’ve started reaching out to friends I’ve made online, people scattered across different places. I may not have friends tied to a specific hometown or a place where I’ve always lived, but there’s something comforting in knowing that friendships don’t have to be rooted in one spot. Chatting with these friends—whether they’re across the country or on the other side of the world—reminds me that connection isn’t bound by geography. It’s a small comfort, realizing that even if I don’t have a permanent circle in one place, I have a network that stretches everywhere. Sometimes, just sharing a moment with someone far away makes me feel a little less alone.
I’m still working through all this and learning what it means to create belonging within myself. The desire to feel settled, to truly call a place “home,” is still there, and maybe it always will be. But for now, I’m learning to make peace with the in-between. So, I’m writing this letter to anyone who knows this feeling: searching for a sense of belonging isn’t always about finding one place or one set of people. Belonging might be something we learn to carry with us, piecing it together from small connections, familiar routines, and the moments of comfort we create wherever we happen to be.
