Home
"We did not hear, beneath our lives, The old walls falling out of true"- Mary Oliver, The House
What is home? Is it a place? Is it people? Is it yourself? Is it nothing but a concept we’ve developed to explain away the need for a certain space? If you don’t have a dwelling you’re considered homeless/houseless, but maybe that’s not true? Why do numbers on a building signify a home?
The reality is that those numbers supposedly signify stability, and we're taught that stability is the most important thing in life. Naturally a home then becomes the great accomplishment in life to show the world you’ve achieved the GREAT STABILITY. I mean, what are we really if we have no home?
I was taught that home was the place you lived in and it was shaped like a house. Anything outside of that definition was foreign to me. Imagine my surprise then when I learned that if you lived in someone else’s house you could not claim it as your home, it was someone else’s home. I learned this at a relatively young age, this knowledge set me adrift, it freed me from associating with a structure, but it left me feeling unstable. I also learned that by living in someone else’s home I was technically a guest, no matter what I was told, nothing was really mine. I was a guest for the first 19 years of my life. Half my life spent in a room that was never really mine. No one ever said I wasn’t welcome, until one day I wasn’t.
I was 19 when I got kicked out of my grandma’s house. I’d been wanting to move out anyway, this was just the motivating factor to get out sooner. I had bounced around so much as a kid between my mom’s/step-dad’s house and my grandma’s house, and the truth was all I wanted was a stable place where I felt like I belonged. So, at 19 I tried to create it for myself. My blueprint for life at that point was bounce around until you feel moderately safe, and as soon as you don’t - run. I applied this blueprint to pretty much everything in my life.
I had so many conflicting messages in my head, “you’re young! Be free! Don’t settle down!” and also “you need to decide what you want and stick to a plan! Stay in one spot and be stable!”…rightly so - I was quite confused. I had this wonky compass inside me that seemed to spin and spin, with no discernible direction, no real focus. I tried to interpret the crazy spinning and ended up out of control.
In my quest to find a stable home, I became homeless inside. I’d technically become physically homeless at 19, and though I found shelter quickly, it took me decades longer to feel home inside my own mind and skin.
The idea of home haunted me wherever I looked. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. No matter how many spaces I tried on. Feeling at home with certain people, well that’s a different story. I tend to keep people who evoke the feeling of home and run from the rest. Well, that’s not entirely true, I’ve run from those who felt like home too. The confusing part about my life is that I desperately wanted stability, but was addicted to chaos and sabotage. I’d like to claim ignorance for that back then, but being brutally honest with myself I knew, deep down, that I wasn’t honoring myself and what I truly wanted. I kept myself shackled to the fear that it would all fall apart or be taken away anyway so I might as well get a head start.
How many homes did I blow up with my fear? I cringe at the thought. To be clear, I have never actually blown a place up. Emotionally speaking though, I’ve definitely damaged some walls and left stained carpets behind. All the while, “A House is Not a Home” plays in the background. And sometimes the people who feel like home, aren't. Other times, people show up and take your hand to help guide you back to the home inside yourself.
I have found the definitions of home to be restrictive, and it turns out that I was taught the dictionary or encyclopaedia version -
HOME: the place (such as a house or apartment) where a person lives. : a family living together in one building, house, etc. : a place where something normally or naturally lives or is located (Merriam-Webster Dictionary).
I understand this to be the supposed universal definition. I also understand that I’m not beholden to universality. I have learned that I get to choose to create my own meanings of some things. Home is one such thing.
I am home.
I am home to myself.
I am home to my stories.
I am home to my family.
I am home to my friends.
I am a home, I am the home. I am always home, no matter where I am.
Thank you dear reader friends for being here! I'm curious about your ideas or experiences of HOME. Please feel free to share in the comments ❤️🩹
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Hope you're taking great care ❤️🩹
Loved your essay. I just finished writing my memoir about all the houses I have lived in. It's called twenty-seven houses and I wrote it for my kids and grandkids. When I thought about the difference between a house and a home I realized I had lived in many houses but few "homes." My real "home" came with my second husband because I knew I belonged there and there was so much love in my life.
Thank you Mesa for sharing this essay ❤️ I loved every words of it. To me, Home is where and when I feel safe and loved. A lot of people say that it starts from within, but to me sometimes when I was completely lost it came from the outside. Actually sometimes the outside / inside perception of life puzzles me. I do think we are all walking poems and that there is a Force in the universe which wants the best for us. We just need to open our eyes and heart to the Beauty of Life, even more when the Darkness shows up! Sending you lots of love 💕