The Homing
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want in my life. I’m trying to make conscious choices, you know, instead of just letting life happen. Life will happen whether I make a conscious choice about it or not, but I’m trying to be more aware. I’m trying to be rooted in what’s important to me.
For much of my life, I’ve been reactive. Things happened to me, and I responded. But how does your life change if you instead begin to make choices? It’s a pretty interesting mind shift, though sometimes exhausting.
I was talking to a friend last week about relationships. Of course about relationships, because this is an area I’m trying to figure out. They had seen their therapist that week and the therapist told them about the idea of Homing.
This idea resonated so strongly with me I could actually feel it in my body.
We all know what a homing pigeon is: a bird that no matter where it flies to, has a magnetic pull to return home.
But what does this mean in relationships?
The therapist explained it to my friend that it was a sense you had after being with someone for a long time—no matter how good or bad the relationship was, if you outgrew that relationship or not, even if you left that relationship and actively didn’t want to return—there is a draw and a pull to return to that person because the many years and experiences and memories created in you a sense of home. That relationship becomes a place where everything is familiar, known, safe. And you have an urge to return to that home. It makes accepting new things harder, because new things aren’t home. New things are scary.
Long after my friend left, I thought about this idea. I’m still thinking about it.
This is what I want. I want a home.
The best way I can describe how I feel in my life right now is unmoored. I feel like I’m bobbing in some wide expanse of ocean with nowhere really to return to.
In my marriage, I loved the sense of being known and I loved the sense of knowing. I knew his likes and dislikes, and he knew mine. He knew that I love to have my hair played with, that if I was low on energy, I’d probably want a burger for dinner; that if I was energetic, a burger would turn my stomach. He knew I’d need a nap around 1 or 2, and that if I wanted to listen to music, it would be some mix of Chet Baker, Frank Sinatra, and Ella Fitzgerald. He knew what angered me and what soothed me. He knew if I could choose anything to watch it would be the British Baking Show or a horror movie.
There’s a sense of home in being known like that.
And I think, above all, that’s what I miss most right now. I miss being known.
I saw another friend recently and we were talking about what we want. We’d been joking the previous week about winning the lottery so we could quit our jobs and focus on our health, our creative lives, and travel. I told her I was going to win the lottery and the next day, I did. I won $2.00.
I told my friend, “Hey, remember I said I was going to win the lottery? Well, I did.”
She said I should have been more specific with my intention.
Instead of saying, I’m going to win the lottery, I should’ve said, “I’m going to win 2 million dollars.” (I’ll try this on the next lottery draw.)
It occurred to me that maybe in my focus on living actively (instead of reactively) I needed to be more specific about my wants.
Here’s what I want, then, besides the 2 million dollars:
I want to be wanted
I want someone who is delighted to spend time with me and eagerly makes space to do so
I want to travel (on my own, with friends, and eventually with someone I love)
I want kindness, in my approach to life, and the people I bring into my heart
I want safety (to know I am loved, that I’m valued, that I matter)
I want physical intimacy (good sex, yes, but also, snuggling on the couch, being wrapped in someone’s arms)
I want time and shared experiences with someone who is important to me
I want security that my job brings in enough income to support me and my kids
I want to feel like the person I am now, the person I’ve become, has a place where she belongs
On my friend’s back porch, we watched a hundred black birds swirl in and out of the trees. I said what I wanted most was a sense of home in dating. “Maybe you just don’t get to have that right now,” she said. Not to be mean, but to be truthful. “You are so ready and open to loving someone. You’re not good at dating. But you have to do the dating part, before you get to have the home.”
What I want, ultimately, comes with time and experience. Home isn’t a place you arrive to; it’s a place you make.
And maybe, that sense of safety and belonging, shouldn’t be made with another person. It’s a bonus if it is, but maybe that sense of home is something you create within yourself.
I’m not quite sure how to create a sense of home within myself, but I’m willing to try.
So then, maybe my list of wants in creating a sense of home within myself, looks a little different:
I want deep and meaningful connection with friends
I want to listen to and honor myself
I want to take care of my body
I want to soothe anxiety when it peaks
I want to trust that I’m savvy enough to support my kids and our life
I want to travel and meet new people and consider new ideas
I want to feel like the person I am now, the person I’ve become, IS the place where I belong
Also, I still want to win the lottery.
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ABOUT TANYA EBY
Tanya is a narrator and writer. She likes hazelnut coffee, caramelized mushrooms, head rubs, and takeout of every kind.
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