home.

Home. A feeling of settling into one’s heart, assessing and accepting every experience and thought that has brought one to where they are. Sitting down and looking through your past. How have I come this far? What brought me to this place of insecurity and distrust? Home is not always comfort. Home is not always pride. 

My heart truly began to grow with my first boyfriend. his name was Cody. He was a year older and a foot taller than I. I always admired him. He loved me so beautifully. He wanted me. I felt wanted. Our hearts were one. He was m first and only true love. I could not see an end to our love. Until one day when we realized we weren’t kids anymore.  and we had to live our lives separately. We had to find our place in different worlds. And we did. And everything is fine now. I still see him in my dreams. 

Then there was Joey. Joey was a silly boy. Now looking back, our relationship began with coercion. I fancied him, and I made him mine. We had the most fun. I moved across the country to be with him. We never connected on the level that Cody and I had. But I thought that might have been better. We laughed. He bought me my first pack of smokes, that night we stayed up al night on the beach. And I got in so much trouble from my father. I told myself I loved him. I most likely did. He left me. He had desires that I  could never fill. He fell in love with a man who showed him who he really was. He was happy. I was broken, but he was happy. 

From Joey’s self discovery, came my self searching. I wanted to feel wanted again. I needed to know that I was attractive and that I could fulfill a man’s desire. I said yes to things that maybe normal girls would say no to. I lost my virginity to a foreigner. (Well, for the record he was a british boy who played the banjo.) It was so easy. Sex became so lighthearted. I realized I could open my legs for a man and feel like a woman and leave th next morning with a story I could share over cocktails with my girlfriends. We would laugh and joke about what a sucker he was, but really I was the foolish one. 

Then I met a man who, little did I know, would have me in and out of love for the next 2 years. This man made me think, made me wonder, made me want to be a good person again. He brought me back to my inspired days from my youth. He reminded me that people can be good, I can be good. He brought me a deal of pain, some good, but most bad. But I like to think that all pain is worthwhile. He was someone I could never love, as many times and as hard as I tried, I knew i could never be in love with him. And we both knew it. He was not particularly “cool” or “mysterious” in any way. He was almost embarrassing. He reminded me what it meant to learn things actively, and to be present. And I taught him all things cool. (Not all things, I left the important things to myself to revel in.) I wanted to open my heart to him, but it was too wounded. My past and the choices following left me too tight and closed. But when it all ended, when I wasn’t sad anymore. I took what I learned from him and pushed myself to find me again. 

I just wanted to feel at home. I wanted to like myself, to be proud of myself. I am not sure anyone ever does. The important thing is that you try. As long as you are trying, you are moving, you are growing.