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The concept of “home” is an interesting one that has been floating around my head a bit of late.  It seems like an easy enough concept at first glance, but the compexities involved in that little word can be mind-numbing if you stop to look at it hard enough.

It may be that I make it harder than it is because of my own experiences.  Growing up, my family moved around quite a bit.  In fact, by the time I had graduated from high school I had attended seven different schools.  The first of these transitions were extremely hard, but as I grew up and we continued to bounce around, I began to adapt.  It became second nature to keep my roots from getting too deep.  I wasn’t always successful in this, but knowing that a move would eventually be coming kept me from getting too comfortable anywhere.

In many ways, I appreciate the fact that we moved as much as we did when I look back on it.  Unlike the typical kid growing up in the same town all their life, I got to see a breadth of American culture I never would have experienced otherwise.  It helped me to appreciate the diversity and differences out there.

But, it also has the effect of me not really having a place I connect with the concept of “home.”  Home was never about a place to me, but about a feeling.  The feeling of home was always one of safety, love, and acceptance for me.  When I had that feeling, I was home, it didn’t matter where it was.  And, I’ve had that feeling around me for most of my life.

The problem I have with home, sometimes, is that in many ways my mind is riddled with fractures.  I’m smart enough to recognize this in myself, and have come to accept it.  Really, I think most of us are broken on some level in some way, we just all deal with it differently.  The truth of the matter is, though, that the broken parts of my psyche make it so I am not someone who adapts well in social situations.  I am introverted to a fault.  I speak little, if at all, even among people I am comfortable with.  Add to that the cynicism that has developed from years of technical support, and finding that place of safety, love, and acceptance is extremely difficult.

Luckily, I found someone that truly cares about me and is able to help me find that feeling of home.  My friends may be few in number but they are loyal and accepting.  I have that feeling of home to wrap around myself most of the time.  

There are moments when it fails me, though.  It is at those times, when the loneliness and cynicism mix into a toxic concoction, that I realize that the damage I have done to some of my relationships will keep me from ever truly finding home again.

At least, until I can find some way to fix what I have broken.


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