There are so many ways to look at the concept of ‘home’ and I can relate to many of them, even if some of them don’t fit my current situation. It’s strange because for this week’s F4Thought prompt post May asked me ‘What do you think it must be like to be homeless?’ and I gave an answer based on the notion of being without a roof over my head. However, in terms of a spiritual home or a place my soul feels like it belongs, I am perhaps in between places at the moment.
Back in August, I shared a post called Home, the pictures in it are of Bakji and the quote that accompanies them is as follows …
‘I always wanted you.
Even when I didn’t know what I wanted. Even before I knew you.
It was you. You were the chapter that I didn’t know the words to,
but always knew it existed. And when I finally found it and began to read,
I knew I was home.
That is the perfect quote for me when it comes to feeling like I’m home. In a fairytale world, I would have found the person who made me feel that way and we would have lived happily ever after. The truth is I felt that way about my ex-husband too and to be honest it’s that feeling that makes me know when someone is going to mean something to me. It has happened three times now, once very recently.
I think I’ve finally realised I am not cut out for and will never actively pursue polyamory, and I specifically mean multiple loving and meaningful relationships. I’m definitely romantically monogamous even if that coincides with an ability to be sexually non-monogamous, ethically of course. What I am good at though is remaining fond of those people who were once home, not in the same way as when being in their arms felt like the safest place and the biggest adventure simultaneously, but definitely in a way that holds them close to my heart.
I don’t know why I can’t settle with one person and stay there, but I definitely connect with the idea that there are seasons of the heart and when my seasons change my heart goes where it may and when it finds that person who feels like home I tend to know they are my next adventure. Sometimes it takes time from the initial ‘oh hello, it seems we might be destined to know each other’ to the ‘oh yes, I’m going to rest here for a while’ but once I’ve felt that initial spark from someone we nearly always get to a more familiar place.
‘There are all types of love in the world but never the same love twice.’ – F. Scott Fitzgerald
One of the things I have never wanted to do is rewrite how much I loved someone. When I fell in love with Bakji I never tried to claim it was a bigger or better love than what I felt for my ex-husband, it was just different. I’ll never love anyone the way I loved my ex, he was my first grown-relationship, we spent a decade together, we grieved together, he supported me through two of the worst times of my life, we laughed, went on adventures, the biggest adventure being the birth of our baby boy. We now parent together and I never stop being thankful that he is still my friend and I look back fondly on those days where I called him home.
It is the same with Bakji, I don’t think we will ever stop being friends, but for whatever reason, he is no longer home. I don’t think it’s because of wrongdoing on anyone’s part, as I said earlier the season of my heart, and indeed of my life changed somewhat and it put us on different paths and while we can still support each other and enjoy our time together as friends, that sense of him being home is no longer there.
My heart, however, does seem to have found a place to rest and I am still waiting to find out just how foolish a decision this is. The truth is though I am at most peaceful and most relaxed when I am curled up with Mr F. I can’t explain why. My header image relates to this because those are, well were his joggers, so even when I’m my physical home, alone, slidings my legs into them feels awesome in a way you will understand if you’ve ever wrapped yourself in the clothing of someone you’re into in some way.
From every angle, it is probably not the wisest move I’ve ever made, but damn, there is something about him that makes me feel I am exactly where I am meant to be. I actually wrote a piece of erotica, Belonging, very much with Mr F in mind and I think it sums up perfectly how at home I feel with him, while at the same time having this gnawing sensation telling me I’ve made my nest in a tree not meant for birds like me.
Part of my philosophy on how I’m built to love means I know having to move on doesn’t mean I won’t find love again, I truly believe there are many chances for love out there, for all of us. As romantic as the notion of finding ‘the one’ might be, I don’t actually buy into it. Goodness me though, when you are in the early stages of resting your head somewhere it is hard to imagine ever feeling more at home anywhere else. Even when your rational brain tells you that this is not only entirely possible, but very likely, and with a reminder that when that happens you feel exactly how you do now, but with someone else.
With all that said I work hard on making sure I do have ways of feeling settled by myself because I don’t think it would be good for me to rely on having someone to call home as my way of having any comfort and peace in this life. My physical home is filled with personal comforts and I enjoy my alone time and being snuggle up in the spaces I have made for myself. One of the best ways to feel at home? Cats! Well in my case just the one, but Daisy in my lap with her big purrs and unquestioning kitten love, that is home right there.
Two of the question May asked in her post for this week’s prompt are I think a perfect ending for my own post. Is home a place or a person? For me, it seems home is all about men and cats! Even though I am and always have been bisexual, pansexual, queer as fuck (all are perfectly valid ways to explain my sexuality) I always seem to find that sense of home with cis-gendered men, so the race is on for someone to mix that up a little.
The other question I really love is what does home mean to you, and I can’t say it any better than the quote below from Maya Angelou, which are the perfect words to end my post …
‘The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.’