Good Morning! As many of you know, I have decided to take a year to be at home. That word “home” though, is a bit complicated. It is possible that it hadn’t changed at all in the two years I had been away or maybe it did. Regardless, I had changed in many ways. I didn’t “fit” into home the same way I had before. Some parts of me fit better as if I had finally grown into them. Some parts were like squeezing back into shoes that were now far too small. It’s been a bit of a process but with time I think I am learning to wear “home” quite well…
The Welcome:
There is a kind of consolation and joy which comes only from returning to things once left or forgotten. When I left home the first time I had no intent on ever truly returning. Visiting, on occasion, perhaps. But that was it. And visiting is not the same as a return. The welcome was the same though: like the rediscovery of some alternate life: trying to take everything in at once because you don’t know how long you’ll have here.
It felt good to laugh with my siblings again: to hear their voice (not over the phone) and to be able to hold and hug them. It was nice to be held again too: by my mom, by my dad, by my boyfriend, by my friends. I had missed this. Having it back felt like magic, as if the whole world had been waiting for me. The flowers seemed brighter and all around me was new life: the baby sheep, the budding plants, the new beginnings.
I learned to adventure again: to climb trees and pick flowers and watch wild strawberries grow. All these things that once felt natural had somehow gotten lost and forgotten. Not entirely, but enough to feel a difference. I was home again. Life felt full.
The Chaos of Home:
The first few weeks of home were as if we felt we were running out of time. Each day was something new and there was almost never a moment of quiet. It still is that way, I think, I’ve just gotten used to it again. Those first few weeks though, were exhausting. The air was so full of smoke from Canada burning that you could smell it when you woke up. The world looked as if it was in an eternal sunset. It was beautiful, but only if you could ignore the smell of smoke and forget why you’d have to.
We started trying to find a space for me and my stuff now that I was home. My bedroom was no longer mine so I “moved in” to my sister’s room with her. I stored my clothes in half of her empty closet and started sleeping on the bed in the corner. The rest of my stuff still needed a place though. We decided to try storing it in a loft space across the street. Trying to find a place for everything where it wouldn’t get destroyed or eaten by mice was a bit of a challenge but not impossible. Soon we had the space in an acceptable condition again.
So much for a having a plan…
When I wasn’t organizing my loft space, I was reminded of the chaos that is living with my family. There were a few days of family excursions. We went to altitude for Mable’s birthday and took a trip to buffalo to see the botanical gardens and Cathedral while visiting our former priest. Then of course, there were the grad parties… so many grad parties, often followed by late night shenanigans with my siblings.
Weather it was waking me up to watch The Emperor’s New Groove after I had gone to bed, asking me to record vocals as I am in my pajamas and brushing my hair, or greeting me in the morning with a “fruit salad special” (made with whole lemons, including the peels!), my siblings never failed to make my life interesting. That being said, the idea of anything going to plan pretty much went out the window. I started to wonder how I ever functioned in this house…
The Reminiscing
When I first started making my loft space functional, I found myself sitting at my childhood desk. It had been mine since I was three and it was still covered in RA bulletin board plans for this past semester that I had made over winter break. I started thinking about the last semester; the past year; the past two years. So much had happened and so much had changed and I didn’t want to forget any of it. And yet part of me wanted to escape it all.
I threw out the old bulletin board plans (I didn’t need them anymore) and began going through the shelves and drawers finding new places for things. Along the way I rediscovered all sorts of treasures from the past. Journals, poems, pictures, flowers, scrap paper, tests, sketchbooks, prayers. I knew I was supposed to be thinking about the future. I was supposed to be working out the next steps. But I found myself sitting with the past as if I had not had enough time with it yet to let it go.
Leaving school was supposed to be a fresh start: a new beginning, but all it felt like was a trap. I wanted to run away. From all that had happened; everything I had or hadn’t done. All the memories, the responsibilities, the wounds I had been ignoring for so long. It all seemed to be magnified here.
“Running away” from Home:
When you run away from home once, there’s probably a reason. When you decided to come back, that reason probably hasn’t changed even if you have. Chances are it won’t be long before you want to start running again. Although my “running away” had come in the more sophisticated form of going to college, it was nonetheless running. I’ve realized more and more since coming home that although I always appeared to be a “go getter”, I was never truly running towards something, I was simply running away.
As a kid I always thought I had monsters following me around. I was terrified of them. People say when you are sacred you go into flight, fight, or freeze. I was never a fighter. In fact, I never even thought about being a fighter. When I was scared I would either become frozen, or I would run. Never did I even think the question: what if I could beat this thing? What if I didn’t have to be afraid?
My Monsters
I had lots of “monsters” to run from. The responsibilities that come with being the oldest of six children, my too often ignored anxiety and depressive episodes, the inconsistency of nearly everything in my household, the seemingly vast emptiness of my town, my lack of trust in what is good, and the doubt I constantly wrestled with. These were the things I had been running from when I left for college. They were the same things I found myself trying to run from again as I returned and home started settling in again.
I obsessed over the thought of other schools. I poured my energy into looking at years of service options. The thought of cutting or dying my hair (or both) lived rent free in the forefront of my mind. All the while, my “monsters” sat there just the same as always, sometimes even growing stronger. My plan was to ignore them as much as possible as I conjured up a plan on escaping. I thought that if I ran far enough or hard enough they would somehow be left behind. But you can’t outrun a thing like fear. It has to be conquered: to be fought: to be danced with.
Finding the Beauty in Now:
Somewhere between the hundreds of college/mission search tabs and the hours spent doom scrolling and the thoughts of all the ways I could alter my look, I saw beauty in where I was. Sometimes it was a book. Introductions to philosophy, Lord of the Rings, some old childhood favorite. Sometimes it was a good meal or a conversation with an old friend. Many times it was the sunlight. Reflected on the dirty dishwater, set behind the trees, or rising above the corn fields. And of course there was love, even when I couldn’t feel it. The love between me and my friends, my family, my boyfriend. It started feeling more real, as if I was just now beginning to understand its meaning.
In the beauty I was reminded of the promise that I would give myself at least a year in this place. Not necessarily this physical place – though that was a part of it – but also this mental, emotional, and spiritual place. I couldn’t keep running away. I would learn to live with myself and my monsters. A promise was a promise, and I had made one: to myself and to my family.
Running towards Home:
Since the home I was returning to was the same one I had spent so much time and energy running from, I realized that trying to make it “fit” the same way it had before would be pointless if not unbearable. Something needed to change. What if, I thought, I could beat this? What if I didn’t have to be afraid? And I think that in itself is proof enough that such a thing is possible. And so the work has begun…
With help and grace, I have started to deepen my faith life. More dedicated and sincere prayer and reflection have become a part of my daily routine and I am beginning to become accustomed to the idea of belonging to God. I’ve been Catholic for nearly 15 years of my life, and yet it feels as if I am just now truly converting. The more I invite God into my life, the more he invites me to change it.
A gentle call to a new home
I have started to feel things pull on my heart bringing me to action. Yet it is not the same pull as fear. Where fear was a maddening, desperate, at some points addictive force upon my heart, this is calm, gentle, steady, and yet still full of passion. It has taken some time to get used to answering to such a voice, but I’ve started. Sometimes my answer is as simple as sketching or journaling or writing a letter. Sometimes it takes a bit more, like taking dance lessons with my boyfriend and siblings, starting to blog again and look at options for starting a business, or diving back into long abandoned art projects. One day, it may lead me back to college, or becoming a mother, or running a business, or all of the above. For now though, it’s leading me to healing.
It’s slow, and there are many days and moments in which I answer to fear rather than to God. Still, there is hope and there is progress, and through it all I know that I am not alone ♡
Thank you for being here on my journey and for becoming a part of it, I hope you’ll stick around for the rest of it 🙂
If you haven’t joined my email list yet, consider this a welcome invitation! If you’re already a part of it, THANK YOU and keep an eye out, some exclusive content will be coming your way soon 😉
I’m planning to start posting on instagram again soon, so make sure you’re following along there too! As always, thank you for being here! I look forward to seeing you in the next post!
In peace and love,
-me (elijah jane)
