I have the flu. I can't sleep. I'm alone. And all that made me think about a lot of different things. My brain settled on the concept of "home." I don't feel at home anywhere. Nowhere.
I moved out of my mom's house a while ago and since I don't feel like I could ever go back and live there, I can't really call it home. If I fell on hard times my mom may let me move in but it would be a problem. Her house is not my home.
I gave up my apartment to move in with the man I might marry. But I didn't feel at home there either. I hated that apartment. A lot of that had to do with my car being broken into two weeks after I moved in. It was far away from everything. Like... Complete opposite direction from everywhere I wanted to be. I wasn't proud enough to have visitors. And before James entered the picture I spent most of my time away from there.
Now I live in James' house. HIS house. Aside from the fact that a nuisance of a grown as man also occupies this space, I don't feel at home because it's not mine. That might sound crazy, I know. I'm constantly reminded in some way that this isn't my house. That the pots I cook with aren't mine. The towels I bathe with I didn't get to pick out. The major decisions are not mine to make. Any time I get comfortable Adam makes some noise or the house is full of niggas that I didn't invite and can't kick out and I'm reminded that this isn't mine. I better mind my p's and q's.
Growing up I didn't think about the Bay Area being home. It just was. When I went back at 18 thinking I was returning home, I was sadly mistaken. Despite all the family I have out there I felt terribly alone. My dad has a family that I'm not really a part of so his house wasn't my home. While I was there my aunt disowned me. My uncle kicked me out. I had 10 roommates in 2 years. And while Shirley and Tia were the ONLY people who allowed me to believe I was loved their house couldn't be my home. There simply wasn't room for me.
I was watching the Black List: V1 listening to Kareem Abdul-Jabar talk about New York being home and feeling like a protective cradle. I don't have that. There is nowhere I feel safe. And safe in that I can't be uprooted because it's home (I feel safe from harm just about everywhere because I believe that certain things - like harm done to me - are in the hands of a greater power. That's a story for another day.) there's no place I can call my own and mean it, and I don't think there will ever be such a place.
This has me wondering about my future children. I know that I feel this as a result of a lot of experiences in my life. A lot of those experiences go back to my childhood. How can I figure out what they were to keep my kids from ending up the same way? In this moment I'm wondering if I even completely like the person I am. Would I want my kids to be like me? Honestly, no. Will raising them in a different environment than I had be enough? Will I be able to spare them the many disapointments I've seen? Will I be able to make a good home for then despite being out of touch with my own? Perhaps most important right now, will Adam ever move the hell out? =] goodnight.
I moved out of my mom's house a while ago and since I don't feel like I could ever go back and live there, I can't really call it home. If I fell on hard times my mom may let me move in but it would be a problem. Her house is not my home.
I gave up my apartment to move in with the man I might marry. But I didn't feel at home there either. I hated that apartment. A lot of that had to do with my car being broken into two weeks after I moved in. It was far away from everything. Like... Complete opposite direction from everywhere I wanted to be. I wasn't proud enough to have visitors. And before James entered the picture I spent most of my time away from there.
Now I live in James' house. HIS house. Aside from the fact that a nuisance of a grown as man also occupies this space, I don't feel at home because it's not mine. That might sound crazy, I know. I'm constantly reminded in some way that this isn't my house. That the pots I cook with aren't mine. The towels I bathe with I didn't get to pick out. The major decisions are not mine to make. Any time I get comfortable Adam makes some noise or the house is full of niggas that I didn't invite and can't kick out and I'm reminded that this isn't mine. I better mind my p's and q's.
Growing up I didn't think about the Bay Area being home. It just was. When I went back at 18 thinking I was returning home, I was sadly mistaken. Despite all the family I have out there I felt terribly alone. My dad has a family that I'm not really a part of so his house wasn't my home. While I was there my aunt disowned me. My uncle kicked me out. I had 10 roommates in 2 years. And while Shirley and Tia were the ONLY people who allowed me to believe I was loved their house couldn't be my home. There simply wasn't room for me.
I was watching the Black List: V1 listening to Kareem Abdul-Jabar talk about New York being home and feeling like a protective cradle. I don't have that. There is nowhere I feel safe. And safe in that I can't be uprooted because it's home (I feel safe from harm just about everywhere because I believe that certain things - like harm done to me - are in the hands of a greater power. That's a story for another day.) there's no place I can call my own and mean it, and I don't think there will ever be such a place.
This has me wondering about my future children. I know that I feel this as a result of a lot of experiences in my life. A lot of those experiences go back to my childhood. How can I figure out what they were to keep my kids from ending up the same way? In this moment I'm wondering if I even completely like the person I am. Would I want my kids to be like me? Honestly, no. Will raising them in a different environment than I had be enough? Will I be able to spare them the many disapointments I've seen? Will I be able to make a good home for then despite being out of touch with my own? Perhaps most important right now, will Adam ever move the hell out? =] goodnight.
I am sorry that you feel this way. I am sure it is quite disturbing and uncomfortable. One day you will feel like you are at home. Sometimes it just takes people longer to get to that level than others.
ReplyDeleteHowever, now you have me thinking about what it really means to be "at home." Hmm.....