“A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.” ― Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi

I’m feeling all mooshy inside, boiling water sopped up into a bundle of wool – squishy, small, yet capable of being larger than life.

My insides have never been reflected on my outside, well, at least not that I know of. Sometimes I can sit there, forgetting the extra pounds that cushion my body. I forget the layers of age, hurt, weight.

It’s a striking thing to feel one way on the inside, then, when observed in a reflection, the awful truth comes from the shadows and you are not who you thought you were.

I left my inner sanctum, my home, decades ago. I realize that now. I’ve wallowed without thinking, I’ve dreamt without believing. I’ve hungered without sustenance in my soul. I’ve slept through a fog of time where memories have been lost, gone forever in a flood of complacency.

Tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow.

The last while though, I’ve slowly, ever so slowly, started to come home. My anxiety is high, has been for months. I thought it was the house we’ve been trying to sell. It isn’t. It’s me. Afraid to truly be, afraid of success, afraid of not-failing. How odd…why would one fear those things? With success, comes change. With change, so much more.

Today, we’re having a viewing at the house. I no longer call it our house. It isn’t. It’s in the state of limbo that I have been. Not really belonging, but not quite ‘other’. Soon, I hope, we will both be home. The house home to ‘other’. Myself, home.

Mötley Crüe – Home Sweet Home