I guess one of the measures of knowing we feel truly at home somewhere is when we feel any sense of annoyance at having to stay the night away from that somewhere. My mom and I have to go out of town for the day tomorrow, and we are leaving around seven AM, so she convinced me to come stay at her house to get. It felt absurd to drive separately, and I didn’t want to deal with her constant complaints at ha but to drive an extra fifteen minutes to pick me up and drop me off on the way. (So, instead, I drove half an hour out here, to ride with her tomorrow an extra fifteen to twenty minutes each way, and then to drive myself the half hour home afterward… right?! And I’m the one who lives in the “inconvenient” place in town… closer to everything…)
Anyway, so I’m at my mom’s house… and I really just wish I were at home, in my own space and my own bed with my own decorations and systems and energy. I had a time this summer where I was very uncomfortable being alone at my place. This is the first time since then that I have noticed a distinct feeling of annoyance and disdain for having to stay at my mom’s instead of my place. Her house was my safe refuge before. Now, my space is my safe space, my oasis of calm, where I feel I belong.
And that is a very beautiful thing to discover for myself. I am extremely grateful.