Finding Belonging While Living Between Two Homes and Worlds
I used to think belonging was like finding the perfect spot in a crowded room ā somewhere that felt comfortable and just right, where you could plant yourself without a second thought. But here I am, sitting in my messy room in Subang Jaya, sweat sticking to my back because Malaysian weather doesnāt do "cosy," trying to figure out where I actually fit in.
Subang Jaya is home ā technically. Itās where my dad and brother are, where I have my own space (even if itās currently a bit of a disaster zone), and where life feels modern and fast-paced. My mum is here too at the moment; sheās been mostly staying in Sungai Petani, where my grandmother lives alone (my uncle there isnāt home at times).
Sungai Petani is where I grew up, a place that smells like nostalgia and quiet mornings. Itās also where Iāll be heading with my mother on Tuesday, hopping on a train to the familiar-yet-foreign town that still feels more like "home" than I care to admit.
Iām the nomadic oddball who used to roam the seas as a cruise ship crew member, relishing the temporary nature of it all. Now that Iāve dropped anchor ā sort of ā I find myself in limbo, trying to figure out where I belong. Between cities, between phases of life, and between the person I am and the one Iām trying to become.
This post isnāt about fixing the discomfort (trust me, Iām still figuring that out myself). Instead, itās about leaning into it. If youāre also living between worlds ā physically, emotionally, or metaphorically ā come find a sense of belonging together?
The Human Need for Connection
Belonging isnāt just a warm, fuzzy feeling; itās a deep, universal need that anchors us to something greater than ourselves. Psychologists like Abraham Maslow placed belongingness right in the middle of his famous hierarchy of needs, alongside love and connection. Itās the kind of need that kept early humans together in tribes, where survival depended on being part of a group.
But when you live between two homes ā or two identities ā that sense of belonging becomes trickier to pin down. In Sungai Petani, where my grandmother lives, thereās a simplicity to life: grounded houses instead of high-rises, the quiet hum of small-town rhythms, and the lingering memories of my childhood. But thereās no room of my own there. Itās a shared space, and while I try to make it work, I canāt shake the feeling of being a visitor rather than a resident. With no close friends in town, the loneliness can feel sharper, amplified by the quiet that once brought comfort.
Subang Jaya, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. My house is technically mine, yet it feels more like a warehouse of hoarded things than a sanctuary. Itās full of stuff ā things that need tidying, purging, or at least some kind of system ā but itās empty in the ways that matter. Friends are scarce here too, and the loneliness is just as present, though it wears a different face. Subang Jaya is fast-paced and restless, a constant reminder of the life I feel like I should be building, but havenāt quite figured out yet.
Living "in-between" creates a kind of emotional whiplash: neither here nor there, just floating somewhere in the middle. Itās a liminal space where connection feels elusive, and belonging seems like a moving target.
Itās More Than a Physical Place
Belonging, Iāve come to realise, isnāt anchored to a specific place; itās more like a feeling that drifts in and out, much like my motivation to tidy up this perpetually messy room. It sneaks up in the quiet moments ā a hesitant smile exchanged with my grandmother, despite my shyness keeping our conversations as brief as a Malaysian dry season rain. Or the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on the roof in Sungai Petani, each drop a reminder of natureās persistent presence. Even the stillness of morning coffee in Subang Jaya, where the clutter around me seems to pause in judgment, offers a fleeting sense of peace.
Instead of chasing the elusive perfect place ā like a cat futilely pursuing its own tail ā Iām learning to focus on what truly matters: connection, nature, and, letās be honest, the ever-enticing dream of financial freedom. These arenāt confined to any single location; they reside within me, portable and resilient, much like my ability to procrastinate.
Belonging, Iāve discovered, is woven through relationships ā both with others and with myself. Itās about finding joy in the transient, embracing the in-between moments, and creating small rituals that make any space feel like mine, even if itās just for a fleeting day. After all, if I can find comfort amidst the chaos of my own making, perhaps belonging is less about where I am and more about how I choose to be.
Practical Steps to Build Belonging in Your Life
Personalise Your Environment
Even without a room to call my own, Iām bringing along a journal ā a habit Iāve always known would help me carve out a personal nook but have never practiced it better. Itās amazing how scribbling down thoughts can make even the most temporary corner feel like a sanctuary.
Stay Present
This is harder than it sounds. My mind often drifts to the "what ifs" ā what if I moved permanently to one place? What if I never figure it out? But when I focus on the now, the birds chirping outside my window, or the warmth from family, the need for answers feels less urgent.
Create Anchoring Rituals
In Sungai Petani, sharing morning breakfasts creates a comforting routine. In Subang Jaya, attempting to declutter my hoarded belongings (a never-ending saga) offers a semblance of order. These simple acts ground me, making each place feel a bit more like home, even if just for a fleeting moment.
When Belonging Feels Out of Reachā¦
Letās be real: some days, itās tough. No amount of reframing or positivity makes up for the loneliness that creeps in when you feel unmoored. When those days hit, I remind myself that itās okay to not have it all figured out. Belonging is a journey, not a destination.
On those hard days, I turn to small acts of self-care ā a walk in nature, journaling my frustrations, or indulging in a hobby. Itās not about fixing the problem but soothing the ache.
Belonging is messy and complicated, especially when your life spans multiple places and identities. But maybe thatās what makes it beautiful. Itās not about finding the perfect place or answer; itās about learning to belong to yourself first.
So, if youāre feeling caught between worlds, take heart. Youāre not alone. Lean into the discomfort, find joy in the in-between, and remember that belonging starts with you.
Where do you feel most at home?
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