So. I have a home. It’s one of those excellent luxuries too often taken for granted. After five months of homelessness I finally have one, and I thoroughly enjoy it. That, and the peace of mind that comes with not having to stress about where to spend the night every single day. Not having to constantly feel like an intruder. Even though I know that I’m welcome to the homes of the friends who have invited me I have this little anxiety-demon on my shoulder that whispers things like “Are you sure you’re not being too much of a burden?”. I’ve had to battle thoughts and feelings of that nature, among others, pretty intensely this autumn. All in all I haven’t held together quite as well as I hoped I would, and the people closest to me have had to endure sides of me that I hate and am ashamed of, and that I otherwise mostly manage to conceal.
It hasn’t all been bad, though. I’ve learned a lot about myself under pressure, and I’ve come closer to people who I might have kept at a distance otherwise. But it is nice to have a sanctuary of my own again. I do love travelling, but after having had indefinite homelessness more or less forced upon me I have to conclude that the nervousness of being completely uprooted prevails over the feeling of freedom in my psyche. In a way you’re actually less free without a home, because it makes you dependent upon others in a very palpable way. We all need others alright, but a little bit of independence can be a sweet, sweet thing.
I also love having the ability to offer hospitality again. To have the means to give back to those who have supported me in my time of need, and to give forth to those who have yet to pay it forward. And I really do have a nice place here. It has walls, a ceiling, even a floor! Along with a small kitchen and bathroom that’s really all I could ask for, but together with all the worldly possessions of mine that survived one year of mouse-infested storage space, and my sorely-missed cat, it is a twenty-six square metre paradise. A temporary one, yes, but then again so is life itself. I have what I need for now, and that is enough.
Normality is still settling into my mind, and I find great joy in ordinary things such as collecting my mail or taking a book out from a bookshelf. Drowning out the now unfamiliar silence with music or stories. Solitude is a luxury which I’m learning how to savour again. But I’m hardly isolating myself completely. I haven’t even lived here for a month, and I’ve already thrown several parties and had lots of friends over for movies or board games or cuddling. And gone to a gaming convention, and to the midnight premiere of the third Hobbit movie. Admittedly I didn’t think it was all that great when it comes to doing the book justice, but I reserve the right to be excited about it anyway. Because that world means a lot to me.
That’s all for now. Now I’m off to try and fix my sleep-schedule into something resembling sanity (for the millionth time, or so). I’ll see you when I see you.
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| Me in my new home, with a couple of Middle-Earth maps.
Photo by this lovely person. |
Love and home,
Winterdragon
