My rather pregnant friend and I were having lunch last month, she was free of her two year-old and me of my five year-old, and the freedom of having lunch together outside of our houses made us giddy. And I said that sometimes I feel like I’m a different person outside my home. And she agreed she felt that way too.
It’s as if I am a prisoner of my house and all that’s wrong with it. The problems that are my problems to solve get topped by chores and meals and there’s no longer any room for me to breathe. Perhaps I drown in my own expectations of what it means to be a good homekeeper.
And then when I escape, I’m no longer that person and possibilities of other ways to exist open up. The same walls containing the same lies fade away and I can make up new and better stories. And I wonder every time, how do I steal this feeling and bring it back home and redecorate with it? This sense of endlessness living. Of possibilities and promises?
It is always in the way that we look at it that shades the daily feelings. I just find it interesting that both me and my friend experienced this same feeling of house arrest. I love my children and my house in many ways, I just wonder what perceptions I need to tweak to feel free and unfettered in my home again accepting that a little vacation is always necessary for a fresh perspective. To be at home in my own home, in my own skin would be a truly splendid gift. As I said in this post, The home I truly seek is within me.
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