Coming Home During a Pandemic

In the last month I’ve experienced a spectrum of emotions that have made me realize the importance of having a home to go back to.

I’d like to think that my ruling state-of-mind through this quarantine has been gratitude. I’m grateful for having a roof over my head, food to eat and being able to sleep. I’m looking ahead 90% of the time. The remaining 10% continues to be a time of self-discovery.

There are days when I’m  flying through all the different things I want to accomplish, and there are days I don’t want to get out of bed, because, maybe it doesn’t matter. There are days when I feel the gripping need to make sure everyone around me is doing alright and there are days when I further want to isolate myself (yes…I’m capable of isolating while in isolation). There are days when I have the patience of a saint and days when you better not mess with me.

These days come and go and I can ride the waves.

The difficult days are the ones when I feel distressed by some of my thoughts:

‘do I need all these things?’

‘if it is possible to survive now (even thrive) eating simple food, wearing pajamas and having more face time with family and friends, why weren’t we choosing some of this simplicity before?’

‘why were we constantly demanding so much of our Earth when we could thrive with much lesser and with plenty to go around?’

The days I’m asking myself these questions (and more) there’s a good chance that somebody talking to me could be stepping on a landmine with an innocent mention of something.

Those are the days I find myself seeking the shelter of home… not a physical one.

My home has been under construction for years, maybe even decades. Now, it has been upgraded with voice-recognition.

Everybody has their own version of this. For me, home is the feeling or knowing that I can count on myself to get me through anything.

That feeling morphs into whatever I need it to be in the moment. Sometimes it is the voice in my head that tells me ‘It’s okay….you’re going to be alright.’, other times it is what cements my patience on a trying day or what reminds me to reach out for support. All I need to do is listen.

My home needs maintenance and the occasional repair too. Over the years I’ve carefully curated a special toolbox that never fails me. Here’s my pick of tools in no particular order:

• Conversation with my parents that always ends with a loving “Huggy Huggy!”
• Writing
• Private concert with hairbrush mic
• Completing a challenging workout
• Belly laughing with friends
• Good old sleeping
• Closet fashion show with hair, make-up and a definite self-directed “Ooooh!!”
• Reading
• Crying… sometimes it takes a good cry to feel better. I try not to hold back.
• Random dancing…this always brings me back from wherever my mind is!
• Ridiculously funny videos that I share with friends and then ridiculously laugh

As the toolbox continues to expand, I know there’s always going to be something at home that will comfort my soul and bring me back to ground zero.

This is me coming home to myself.

Now, I just need to make sure I don’t lose my keys.

Yours Rawly,