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.

Who Inspires You?

It’s hard to fathom the amount of inspiring people that this world holds. Although I don’t have a lot of people in my inner circle of life; the people I’ve met along the way are all different kinds of inspirational.

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In my journey to adulthood I’ve met people that have had cancer and survived it – multiple times. I know a chick that never let her size prevent her from having the time of her life. I went to college with a girl would one day go on to spread awareness about the victimized within the Catholic church. I know mothers and fathers with beautiful (on the inside and out) children born with disabilities and embraced it. I know LGBT men and women that have stood up to and defended themselves in the presence of bigots. I’m in love with a man that was forced to stay strong through a very painful criminal case. I know a woman that could have easily died while giving childbirth. I know a kid that dropped everything to better his life and succeeded in doing so.

There are so many people that have passed through my life, in what some cases only seemed like a two minute span, but that doesn’t make them any less inspirational. If you demonstrate any quality from strength to power to controlling your own life to never giving up than you too are an inspiration to many. There is no predetermined mold for what will define you in life and there never will be. But if you face your fears and never give up, you’ll form your own mold and path in life in whichever way you choose.

The people that have come and gone in my life continually teach me to be kind and empathetic. They teach me to reach for the unreachable and strive for the best. They show me on a regular basis that they matter and so should I. They prove the discouraging wrong and stand up to what’s right. They hold the key to the many definitions of what I strive to be.

Who inspires you?