What is home?

Have you ever felt as though you just don’t seem to belong anywhere? My whole life I’ve always carried around this feeling that I just don’t fit, that something isn’t right, that I don’t belong.

I have this great-big family, filled with all sorts of different characters and personalities. When I say ‘great-big’, I really mean it. I have four siblings, my parents each have 6 and 7 siblings, I’ve got something like 45 cousins at this point. There’s family everywhere. And amongst all of the different personalities and characters that exist within my family, I’ve never really fit.

I’ve tried. Don’t get me wrong, I have really, genuinely, completely made an effort. I just don’t think they understand me. I don’t think they want to understand me.

When I graduated from University, I made myself a promise that I was going to do things for myself for a change. Instead of putting my family first, I was going to put myself first. And I did that. For many years. I liked it. And though I never really felt like I found home during that time, I was content with the understanding that I was living life for me.

Lately I’ve been coming to the realization that home is where the heart is. Whether it be a dingy, overpacked hotel room, a dusty old apartment, or the basement bedroom someone else’s home, if that is where your heart is, that is where your home is.

I can say for certain that my heart is definitely not in this room right now. Nor do I think it will ever be.

I got in a disagreement with my mother today. Which makes sense. We’ve been around each other for 24 hours, so it was bound to happen eventually. I just… as much as I know she has the best of intentions, she’s never really taken the time to get to know me. So we butt heads quite frequently. I’m trying to be sensitive to what she’s going through, but, it’s hard. It’s so hard. And that almost makes me feel worse. I just feel as though I can’t win. She has this expectation that I’m going to be the doting daughter, and I’m not that. I’m not that at all and I never have been. The more I continue to fail at being that, the more I’ll disappoint her and myself in the process.

My heart isn’t here. My heart doesn’t want to be here.

And, as I begin this total reinvention of ones’ self, I can’t help but think that I’m doing this all wrong. Why am I here? I left my heart in a million pieces along the way and I’m scrambling to figure out where to go next or what to do.

I love my mom dearly. She’s an incredible woman and a warrior. I love my whole family dearly. I do. But I don’t belong here. And I know the longer that I stay here the more that it’s going to eat away at my soul. I want to go home. And that’s so sad because I don’t even know what home is anymore.

Tired and uninspired.

2019 has been kicking my ass. That’s become a phrase that I’m using a lot this year. At 1.5 months into this year, I’m wondering where the time went while also wondering why everything is going so slowly.

This just in – I am still unemployed. And it’s not for lack of trying. I even had a professional writer take a look at my resume to tell me what was wrong with it. It’s good. Trust me, it’s good. Somehow though, that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I have ten years experience, a degree, or anything that’s listed on my resume. I am just another one of the bunch. And since the bunch is plentiful, here I am… serving as the token unemployed millennial. Such a stereotype. Such I am.

In other news, my mother’s chemotherapy has been delayed. The poor woman seems to be allergic to just about everything, so, I guess the doctor’s are hesitant to completely destroy her immune system until they know that she’s not going to adversely react to the medications she’s required to take through the process. Knowing that this process is being prolonged is affecting my anxiety in copious amounts. It’s hard enough to have to watch your mom go through something like this, but it’s getting harder knowing that it’s so much more complicated than we originally thought it would be.

I’m still homeless. It’s been difficult. Though I’ve lasted 12 days at this point so I am pretty proud of myself for that. I find myself missing simple things… like being able to open the cupboard and see exactly what I want to eat in there… or being able to leave the dishes in the sink and wash them later. Or just sitting down on my own couch. Things are just things, I am aware of this. I am now realizing though just how much comfort some of these things can bring… especially when you might just be in a frail state yourself (and not wanting to admit to it).

I have a CT-Scan booked for Saturday. I was quite amazed that I actually got it booked so quickly. Hopefully though, they’ll be able to see what’s really going on inside of my head and provide me some relief to this constant pressure in my face. The doctor thinks it’s internal damage from a broken nose, but needs a CT-Scan to see the extent of the damage. I guess we’ll find out on Saturday. As if there wasn’t enough to worry about in my life already…

To take a moment and talk about the bonuses – Knight and I travelled to Lake Louise to see the Ice Magic Festival this past weekend. It was magical, and everything I’d ever wanted it to be. I’ve had dreams of seeing it since I was a kid, so being able to be there and see it up close and personal was a pretty big check off my bucket-list.

Here’s to trying to see the positives through all the mess.

And self-care. Self care is very important.