Home’s where you go when you run out of homes. -John le Carré

This couldn’t be more accurate. I’ve had a lot of homes. More than I’d like to admit. Not in a bad, no family situation kind of way. I’ve just moved a lot. I never feel at “home.” I never get that cozy, warm, home feeling that we all know about.

Until I leave.

First, I’ll start by saying that yes, my parents house feels most like home. I think for a lot of people, young adults especially, this is probably true. This isn’t about home “home,” this is about making life your home. I’ve moved to a different apartment in the same city, I’ve moved to different cities, accepted different jobs, met different people. But it always seems like every day is like the last, everywhere I go.

I don’t know if I’m expecting some kind of grand entrance to the next level of life or what but the days so easily and so quickly become monotonous.

Home. What is home? I have a Pinterest board that feels like home to me. The décor, the space, the ideas, the wonder. The laughs around a dining room table playing games, the comfortable bed snuggled up next to my kitten. The warm fireplace, hot cocoa, and Christmas cartoons on repeat. I imagine home much more than I feel home.

I have this grand gesture of an idea in my head. I’ve been planning my “home” for as long as I can remember. I’m going to buy a beautiful house, paint, and decorate. Fill it to the brim with my home-y style. Invite those people over to play those games. Light that fire and drink that cocoa. Snuggle and smile and enjoy my home.

But that kind of home, that dream home seems so far away. There are so many variables of life that make home feel impossible for a 20-something. Credit scores, income, education.  Needs verses wants is probably the biggest mountain to climb. I don’t need a lot but I don’t want garbage. I have high hopes and medium expectations when it comes to home.

With that being said, my current “life” feels so far from home it’s not even funny. I know apartments never feel like home; at least I don’t think they do. But I miss my old home. I miss certain parts of living in that shitty ass trailer in Thief River. I miss the upstairs apartment that we lived in TWICE. I kind of even miss my downtown, hole in the ground apartment in Grand Forks. I miss West Ridge which was, hands down, the best place we’ve ever lived.

Now that we no longer live in those places, they seem like home more than ever before. I fanaticize about what my life would be like now, if I would have given it just a little more time instead of always jumping and running away when things weren’t just the way I wanted them.

I want to get past this hump of “Why’s.” We keep questioning if we’ve made the right decisions. Was it right to move to leave Thief River nearly 4 years ago? Was it right to leave excellent paying jobs and people in Grand Forks? Did we give Bemidji enough time? Why are we in Fargo? What are we doing?

Home never feels like home until you leave. It’s true. Everywhere I’ve lived, I couldn’t wait to “get out” thinking that my next move was going to be my last move until the big buy (a house) but then I move again. What am I running from? What am I chasing? Each of those places we’ve left always seem to call me back asking the question “Why?” I miss my home and wherever I am now, doesn’t feel like it’ll ever be home. It never does.

Willpower.

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I’ve recently tapped into my willpower energy and let me tell you; it’s damn difficult. Up until I became serious about losing the weight that I’ve accumulated over the last 24 or so years – I didn’t really view willpower as something that anyone could actually obtain. It’s not easy, that’s for sure..but it’s possible.

I’m still learning and I’m only in the beginning stages of making progress on my weight-loss journey but I wanted to summarize a conversation I had today about deprivation. Anyone will tell you not to deprive yourself and you shouldn’t I guess. But in my case, it almost feels like I need to in order to make real progress. So in reply to a gal noting that I should have a piece of cake that she made for a potluck today I said:

“I didn’t deprive myself for the last 24 years. I ate whatever, whenever I wanted. So I think it’s okay to deprive myself for one day with potluck food…”

And it’s true. This weight-loss journey that I’m trying to accomplish isn’t an easy feat and it shouldn’t be treated with food rewards. You wouldn’t tell an alcoholic in the process of sobriety to have “just one drink, it won’t hurt” would you?

That’s another thing I’ve recently accepted. Addiction. Even though I’ve heard it my entire life, I never really associated eating with addiction. And it’s one of the worst kinds too. You have to eat in order to survive. It’s everywhere.

There is no comparison but for a simple example…you can quit smoking. Get a prescription, use the patch, nicotine gum, ect. You don’t need it to survive. It seems much more practical to kick just about any addiction other than food. But maybe I’m just being biased because I’m dealing with my own addiction.

I’ll forever be addicted to food no matter what I’ll do. I know for a fact, that I’ll indulge at times. Hopefully it won’t be as often as my current once a week motto or in other words “free day.” I’m not quite to that step of willpower yet.

I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite but I hope to have a little control over my future children’s lives as far as health goes. Due to my weight I’ve limited myself more and more in so many things that I’d love to do out of fear of embarrassment and I don’t want anyone to have to go through that. I’m not going to deprive them of food but I pray that I can teach them healthy eating habits early on and not expose them to fast food for as long as motherly possible.

If I overcome this lifelong journey, I want to spread awareness. I used to think it was stupid – seeing obesity commercials on TV, the radio, in newspaper ads, but it’s not. I hope I have enough willpower to become a survivor.

Strength Is Earned.

It’s rare when some single person somewhere on this planet can actually relate to that something going on in your life. As each day in my life goes by, I’m finding that I realize that more and more. It’s depressing really. Even if two people or an entire family are going through the same “something” each individual can’t possibly feel the same as the one next to them.

There are many times that I’ve wanted to, and sometimes I do call for a pity party. I just want someone to understand what I’m going through or expect someone to empathize with me when even I, myself have admitted to have a lack of said empathy. I find comfort in having someone to talk to but once I reflect on a conversation had or advice given, I often find myself in stuck in their shoes that don’t fit me. Why did they say what they said? Does it make sense? Sure, it might but why? They have no idea what is actually happening. What’s going on. What the situation actually is. How I really feel. They aren’t me, how could they?

For the sake of the privacy of those around me, I won’t go into personal details but I myself have been going through something for some time now. In a twisted, clouded way one might say that I signed up for it. I could have walked away from an inevitable hurdle too high for an Olympian to jump over but something deep inside my soul urged me to run toward it not away from it. The consequence in doing so has lead me down a path of putting off certain aspects of my life.

I’ve made a promise to myself though, specifically in the year that we are in. At the beginning of the New Year, I vowed to live my life and pursue even the smallest of dreams. Two very simple things that I’ve willingly put on the back burner for nearly two years. A lot of people don’t understand and anyone that I’ve met within these two years hasn’t had the opportunity to even understand because I don’t talk about it. Not that anyone might actually care but for arguments sake, lets just assume they do.

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I found out very early down this path that I chose that it does no good to release your emotions at the drop of a dime. It leads to “friends” and family’s free reign to run their mouths on a topic that they just don’t understand. Not only do we all not have the exact experiences as each other but we, as a human race, are quick to judge before the end of a sentence is even completed.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m going to try to give people more of a chance. I’m going to try to understand and try to truly empathize. I’m going to try to provide people with the strength that I have unknowingly built up. And even though I have no idea how each of you actually feel at any given moment in your life, I will be there. I will be there to listen and to build you up. I will be there to push, to tell it to you straight, and to be on your side. I will tell you that there actually is a light at the end of the tunnel even if that tunnel is fucking long.