Home is…

Home is where I can be ugly.

That is how I would finish that sentence.

As I drove home from work tonight, I was thinking about what it feels like to be home.  And the statement above is what so easily popped into my head.  I thought about how so often you hear people describe home as being cozy.  I don’t think that of my home.  I don’t associate ‘cozy’ with the word home.  When I feel most at home, I feel like I can be ugly.  Not that I feel like I am ugly and that is where I can feel ugly.  No, there is a difference.  I feel like I can BE ugly–let my ugly out.  Home is where the good clothes come off and the PJs and slippers come on…or I can just sit around naked (if the roomie isn’t home) without any judgments of my body or anyone looking at me or assessing my features for aesthetic value.  It is where my thoughts can run wild and free…or be completely absent.  It is where I can watch mindless TV or YouTube videos.  It is where I can procrastinate and be a lazy bum.  It is where all the bad sides of me can come out.  (don’t have to and don’t always…but can.)  It is where I can binge on whatever food I have in the fridge.  It is where I don’t have to shower.  It is where I don’t have to brush my teeth.  It is where I can be as selfish as I want to be. It is where I can smell if I want.  It is is where my farts can smell as bad as ever!  It is where my neuroses have their recess and can play out in the open like 5-year-olds.  (which, at times, can seem like a cathartic release or even an exorcism.)  It is where everything ‘wrong’ about me surfaces.  I CAN BE UGLY!  I feel most at home when I feel completely comfortable in being my ugliest.  If I feel any one ounce or smidgen of a need to be ‘pretty’, then I am worlds away from feeling completely at home.  I need to be able to have food in my teeth, gut hanging out, semi-dirty PJs on, gunk on my hands/in my fingernails, eating food from the jar or container it came in with a spoon I just rinsed off from a sink of dirty dishes.

That feels like home.  It is also the home of mine that few will ever see.  Because most often if others are in my home, it doesn’t feel like home.  Because once other people are involved, the need to be ‘pretty’ (in appearance, action, and thought) most often comes along.  Very few people have every seen me ‘at home.’  I’m there right now.  And I feel so comfortable.  And, for the first time ever, I am wanting to be ugly with someone…and I’m breathing this feeling in…along with some other new scary/disturbing/world-disrupting feelings that have been percolating over the past week.

Home is also where I imagine.  It is the birth place of most of my creative thoughts (not all, the others come while walking, reading, or driving.)  And I know why–because I can first let go of all the prettiness pretension.  My mind is not focused on ‘pretty’ and ‘not ugly’ or ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’  My mind, when fully at home, is not focused on ANYTHING…it is free to be ugly.

…and allowing myself to be ugly now feels so good…so comfortable…so at home for me, I’m realizing it is a feeling I’ve never shared with anyone else.

About heathencomehome

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