I want to ship something home.
How do I feel right now? I sat and asked myself this question a few times this past week. I’m not worried or angry, I’m not lost, so what can it be. After some careful reflection I think I’ve come to a conclusion. My emotions heighten when someone asks me “Where am I going?”, I sometimes fight my eyes from forming a tear. I want to say “I’m going home, it’s been a great vacation.” or “I’m going on vacation and I’ll be back home soon.” but I can’t say either of those things.
At the same time I acknowledge how grateful I am to have the opportunity and experience I’ve had for the last few years. I have lived in Australia for almost a year starting December of 2015, then after a five month visit to New York I was gone again to Bali, Thailand, Australia and back in Bali the last two years and it’s been amazing even with all the bumps in the road.
Now in Atlanta, I find myself having a hard time saying I’m going home soon. It doesn’t feel that way. I feel like I’m on one long journey of living in the office, I’ve managed to purge a great amount of my belongings, which is a good thing because I had a lot of shit.
I walk through stores like William Sonoma, West Elm and stare at all the things I would want to fill up my space, my home. I want to purchase something on my travels and box it up and ship it home. I want to hang a picture or send home a post card and add to my collection of things.
Even growing up, as early as I can remember I never really had a home. I lived with parents I guess for a few years, memories suppressed by things unknown. I lived with aunts and my grandmother, and then I was gone by 16 yrs old. Ready to find my own way, really too young to know which way was up. I survived because I’m a survivor. I’m grateful I never had to do anything to put me at risk daily, I was able to find a job and keep my commitments and pay my own way from a very early age.
Now looking back I can see why I could never save any money, I was on this constant shopping spree to fill my home with things that looked pretty. I mean decorating for me came naturally, I liked it and was good at it. But even if my relationships weren’t good I wanted my home to make up for it. I wanted to feel like I belonged with the normal people, I think. I wanted a place where I could invite friends over to eat and have good conversation, Sunday dinners, movie night, games and laughs, drama free hosting.
I guess what this all comes down to is I didn’t realize not having a place to really come home to is starting to affect me. I want my travels to continue but i’ts definitely time to consider setting down some roots somewhere. A space that reflects who I am, a place where I can hang my shoes up, a home where I can reflect on memories of joy and sadness. A place that makes me feel SAFE.
A place that holds more than my fancy camera, laptop and favorite kicks.
I know that’s all coming, I’m doing the work on myself that will get me there. I also know this time I won’t be buying the things to just make things look like a home. I know that I can create a home the right way, for me. I’m no longer running from a disfunctional one, or an unsafe one. I made a choice to give up what I thought was home for a chance to really heal from my past.
Now I’m ready step back in. Thank you for taking the time to read this weeks blog. This was a very vulnerable topic even if it didn’t sound that way in my writing, I sit here with my layers peeled back to the core of this subject. Longing for something I never really had.
For all my fellow recovery people early in recovery, this is normal stuff and we find ways to work through our childhood trauma and broken homes with the help of our sponsors, friends, fellowship, family and therapists. I have found it to be true that I’m only given what I can handle. As sad as I get sometimes when it comes up, I remain grateful to be doing real life sober, and surviving it. Today I can say I’m more than just surviving life, but I’m growing stronger and living more wholly every year.
Mucho Love, Jamie
