Sometimes home isn’t where you think it is. Home is a feeling, not a structure or object. Home is something that is only deeply understood and felt by the individual. Home can be a default, but home is a deeply personal thing.
I thought I was home. I thought I was at my place. But I realized, I was uneasy. I was not at rest. I realized the only home one can truly I have is the home of your body. Your body, your soul, your love is the only thing you can truly come home to at the end of the day.
I haven’t always been kind to myself. I haven’t always understood why I have felt uneasy. I sometimes squash and push myself to feel some way that I don’t. To try to find more ease, I somehow was always on the move. Always planning, checking off to do lists, accomplishing the next task.
However, I realized I had to leave all this in order to come home. Sometimes I search and search for things that I think I want and then realize this was someone else’s dream. Sometimes the mundane becomes the track. I was in the track and I couldn’t get out of it. I had to leave everything and become a nomad to truly come home to myself. In the end the only person you can come home to is you. I am the only one in the end that can comfort, love and be there for me. Right now, doing the most unconventional, unexpected thing is the thing that feels the most natural.
This nomad has finally found her home. She found it within herself. It was always there, but was hidden amongst the expectations and pressures of the surrounding world.
This nomad is coming home.