November 20, 2016 § Leave a comment
Home is where the heart is. I detest this phrase. Where is the heart? Where is home? Why must it be located in a physical sphere or bound to an emotional space? I’m missing home a lot more than I would imagine. I’m missing our usual Sunday mornings coffee runs and getting into work tired from the whole week and looking forward to a beer session.
I miss working out with my kilter crew/crossfit crew. Even though I haven’t been entirely close to them, the community has always been there to support my workout regime and push my physical strength to a higher level.
Most of all, I miss my Mother. My anchor to the everyday routine and journey. She is there for the sad times, to hear me yell or laugh about unforgettable moments. For quiet meals when we don’t feel like talking; laughing at stupid jokes; understanding my needs and keeping me grounded to the heart.
Coming to a new place is difficult. I moved for personal reasons. Reasons, I would think are difficult to find or place an attachment to. Reasons, I think would be unfair to keep them. Sometimes when reasons fail to make one happy, one loses hope in keeping up with this journey.
The culture, the language, the cuisine, the everyday surroundings and faces are all different.
Over the last few days, I have fought with everything unnecessary. The smallest dirt in the kitchen, the unplaced laundry in the basket, the dirty feet marks on our temporary homestay wooden floor etc. The slightest mistakes in the words would hurt me and make me feel like the smallest person on earth. Unable to feel vulnerable because I was told to be strong. To be strong around men, to hold my ground in the military-kitchens and remain steadfast with setbacks.
Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness- Brene Brown.
Ironically, I miss the closer love we have had. Perhaps like any new bond, the initial exciting courtship have ended and we are much more like ourselves with distance apart. I got caught up with wanting my rights, ways and usual routines; I got lost in finding a meaning to be here. I voiced my opinions and forced gravity against the flow. I could not see from a different light. I was only fighting with myself to make life more difficult than it already is.
And at the end of them all, I became someone unrecognisable to my own reflection.
When I look at my own timeline, I didn’t recall myself being so anxious about a move. I remember embracing every wave, and held on to the heart like it was a surfboard.You either ride the way or duck dive there.
What happened to the old self? Did I get so complacent with trying to adapt to a new place that I forgot to bring the embrace-it-all/wabi-sabi attitude towards this new journey?
I never missed home so much more; yet just a year ago, I wanted to leave so desperately and never come back to stay again. How can one be in a same place but have extreme feelings? The disenchantments of a new surrounding, the distance between two hearts, finding a new place and building a business together set in very heavily.
Two weeks have passed. Its getting easier. I’ve realised that home is where you found yourself to be and it will always be there; missing it, is merely just missing yourself. “Come back home”, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. Make the best out of it and even if it fails, at least you gave it your very best.
So here is the beginning of devoting myself to making honest food for my crew and building a new community.