Hundreds of Homes

I have always been a home body.

I do not say this statement lightly. While some people are constantly in a state of wanderlust, my mind and body are never quite at peace unless surrounded by both the walls and the people that I love.

This is who I have been for as long as I can remember.

In public school every sleep over happened at my house. I wasn’t anti-social, I was just social at home. This trend continued into high-school. And, evidently, now haunts me in university.

I am a home body, with multiple homes.

And let me tell you, for a girl that looks anxiety in the eyes every time she has to pack a bag, even if it’s just for one night, this is not a peaceful way to live.

Now obviously I don’t have hundreds of homes, I don’t have hundreds of buildings filled with furniture and photographs, I don’t have hundreds of addresses that all belong to me.

But, I do have hundreds of people and places and living and none living souls that are scattered in hundreds of different directions and all of which hold a piece of me.

“Home is where your heart is,” not where you sleep at night or hang your clothes.

Home is where your heart is happy and your mind is at peace, not where you shower or cook.

Home is where your loved ones are, not where your drivers licences claims.

Home, for me, is hundreds of different places.

I write a lot about how I am happy and positive and how things are going right, or how things are going wrong but I am still smiling. And all of it is true, I am happy and positive and bubbly and optimistic.

I pride myself at finding the good in every day, even when I spend 90% of it crying under my blankets… especially when I spend 90% of it crying under my blankets.

But, I don’t normally talk about the fact that I have crippling OCD and controllable (but extremely annoying) anxiety.

However, today I packed up my car after the shortest weekend in the history of forever at home, and I spent two and a half hours with Taylor Swift blaring on my radio and my brain running laps the entire drive.

On one hand, I was driving home to a very small and cozy apartment where I am comfortable and happy. Where there is the cutest and toughest little beta fish awaiting my arrival. With a group full of friends who I will see tomorrow morning and a horse that is probably my biggest true love waiting for me too.

Oh, and my heated blanket, I cannot forget about my heated blanket because it is probably the biggest draw to my apartment itself.

But, as I looked in my review mirror I knew I was leaving an even bigger part of my heart behind me. Tucked safely into my house, left lingering with my dogs and constantly shadowing my family members.

I knew, like I know every single time I get in my car, that although my bags were fully packed I was undoubtably leaving something behind.

I have been away at school for three years. I have lived in 5 different apartments. I have lived with roommates and by myself. And I still haven’t figured out how to mask my anxiety or stop the aching inside my chest as I drive away and set my eyes on my next destination.

So, I am a home body, with hundreds and hundreds of homes and pieces of myself scattered in hundreds and hundreds of directions.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s