Home Sweet Home

I am having a strange, fickle, wistful sort of blah day. I had a brunch meeting this morning which was great and productive and yummy. Did some errands and thought I might go see a movie, but my timing was off and I couldn’t find parking near the art house theater, so I gave up on that. And just came home. Which probably wasn’t the greatest idea as I’m in a “please stay out of my space” kind of mood today.

I keep having the phrase “I want to go home” run through my head. It’s a relatively common occurrence. Has been since I was little. Whenever I’m feeling a bit lost or forlorn or well, pretty much anything uncomfortable, it’s the litany that I find running through my brain over and over and over again.

It can get pretty irritating actually. Especially when I am sitting on my couch at home and I can’t get my brain to shut the hell up. It’s been going on long enough that I know it really has nothing to do with where my couch is housed of course. Sometimes it’s a place, sometimes it’s an action and sometimes it’s a person. That’s usually the hardest one, when my home of the moment is a person. Because I usually feel like I’m imposing and you know, it’s probably hard to be someone else’s home, no matter how transient they may be.

Mostly I think it has to do with just wanting to be comfortable. Wanting to be comfortable in my own skin, wanting to be comfortable in my surroundings, wanting the comfort that comes when you arrive home. The place where you can be absolutely you, unabashedly and unapologetically without reserve. Where the colors don’t wash you out and the furniture is perfectly placed. That’s probably what I’m after more than anything.

And I know that there will come a day when I’ll feel at home no matter where I happen to be. When I can give myself permission to be unabashed about who I am regardless of context or mitigation. I know that day is coming. But until it gets here, I just want to go home.