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home

Weird word isn’t it? So many definitions. It is a word that  I am currently redefining and am realizing that my definition was inflated and sad. It is for sure a place that your heart is most centered and you are most happy. BUT! What happens when home means more to you than those you fill it with? Maybe that is the whole purpose? Make it what you want? Over the past year, I have been through a really rough storm and found those that I called “home” really weren’t interested in being my “home”.  They were O.K. to deal with me when things were good and they didn’t have to offer so much of themselves. Maybe that is where I went wrong… I defined my world on the values and the needs that were passed down to me as a girl. “Love each other, Respect each other, support each other, be there when someone needs you, place yourself behind others, and do it with out judgement or expectation.” I am now sitting here wondering if that was fair of me to expect that of other people? It is like the meme’s we see that go in the lines of “just because you treat someone one way, you shouldn’t expect to get that treatment back”? Antiquated? Probably but it is ingrained in my being.

Have we really become a society that expects good from others all the time but when they need it in return, we won’t offer it?We don’t want to be inconvenienced?  In the storm that raged against my “home” and caused relocation, the ripping away from the “home” we created, I have concluded that people cannot or will not even try to relate to someone because they have never been through trauma. Is that not scary? I pray that they never do because loss SUCKS! Any kind of loss is traumatic. You lose part of who you were/are in trauma. You have to redefine. That redefinition is…. Whoa! Man! It is.. paralyzing sometimes. The word hard doesn’t do the change or , better yet the metamorphosis, justice in describing what goes on.  It is like being thrown in a vat of boiling oil. YOU HAVE no choice, your skin is going to be burnt off. You have to let it regrow, The regrowth is hard and painful and leaves you scared. IF you are lucky, there are parts of the “old” skin left, untouched and unblemished, but you have to decide if you want to put them on public display or keep them hidden because they are the only part of you not marred by the oil, or do you put them out there to be abused and dried out like the rest of your “new skin?”

I am still deciding what to do….

It’s been an eye opener, though. It has shown me that the “home” I mourn for, the “home” I cry for, yearn for, was made of people that were “fair” weather.  And I think, I am O.K. with that. I don’t think it is so much the “people” as it is the security, the independence, that routine that I miss the most. The memories of having all of that is what I yearn for? I am thankful that the people in my life that want to be part of “home” are there helping me redefine this new life. I am thankful for the new people in my life. To be honest though, I am terrified of having them be torn from me… Terrified of the judgment of the “newbies”. I want to keep my “old” flesh hidden but the “newer” parts are screaming for contact, for friendship, for new memories. New security… Screaming for “home”.

I am still mulling over how to redefine the term home. Does it need redefined? Maybe not at its base but there are things that need to be fleshed out. What it is, I am not sure, and get rid of the fear that the new definition will bring. I am trying to find the security again, the safety… Humans are creatures of habit and routine…. Mine has been busted all to hell…. yesh….

Home… damnit, “why ya gotta be so complicated?”