I have the privilege of reading many talented bloggers via this blog. It is sadly comforting to connect with people that have experienced the same things I have. I wouldn’t wish my issues, or my past on anyone. But it is reassuring to know I am not the only one who feels the way I do. And that my reaction to my past experiences is normal.
But I as yet have not read someone discussing what I want to talk about today. The idea of home.
I didn’t have a home growing up. I lived in a household full of abuse and anger and sadness. I was not safe there. I was not comforted there. And I never felt at ease.
I think having a home is one of the most important things in the world. I think it is what we are all looking for in finding a partner. Someone that gives us the sense of security that we ideally felt as a young child. But that so many of us never had (including me).
So what do we base this idea of home on? I certainly don’t want to recreate my childhood home with someone. I don’t know what I want my home to be. I have never been in a happy home.
I have these ideas in my mind of how I think it should feel. But it is hard to know if they are even things that exist. Maybe the things I want are things that nobody has. I don’t know what a home should be like.
To make matters worse, I have been very abusive towards myself. I wasn’t able to create a home for myself, with myself. It is only now that I have worked so hard to be kind to myself and to care for myself. It is only now that I am making a safe place for myself.
And yet, I want to be in a relationship with someone. I want to keep this home that I have made for myself. And I want to share it with someone else.
I keep my home within myself. It is inside me. It is safe there. And nobody can ever take it from me. But I also want it to be outside me. And I want someone to share it with, someone that will protect it as I have.
I don’t want to be a self contained unit forever. But I am afraid I will never meet someone that is safe. I am afraid my home will always be inside me and never shared with someone. Like one more secret I carry around with me.