Coming Home

Its been a week since I've returned home and I'm already sitting in the feeling that I made a mistake. I know that this is just a step in the ladder of my journey and I am trying to have faith in that fact. Life is funny the way if gives you exactly what you need. Yesterday I was doing my Native American spirit animal cards and I pulled Black Panther which is all about embracing the unknown. This particular lesson is all about the need to follow our dreams to heal ourselves and how to fearlessly face the unknown and step into the unfamiliarity of the journey of self discovery. I have always struggled with just "being", consistently feeling the need to be doing something. Sitting still has always been the challenge, "being me" the struggle. I have started to learn who I am over the years and now am at the point where I'm starting to embrace myself, joyously refusing to dim my light or apologize for who I am so that I can fit in -insert name here- 's little box. I left New York ready to see where this new love and acceptance of myself would lead me. My plan: to take a step out of the concrete jungle to save some money so that I could explore the world abroad, something I've been dreaming of since I was a girl who wanted to move to Brazil. I realized I've always wanted to get away, to escape, but never fully understood why I was running so fast and so hard. Through the help of therapy, groups, life challenges, whatever you want to call it, I have been able to acknowledge the "fuckupedness" of my childhood and sit in my truth and say "shit's not right," while forgiving people, including myself, and recognizing where it all comes from and that everyone is doing the best they can. But even with all this new awareness the demons of the past have popped out like the monster in the closet (in the middle of the night when I finally feel at peace). Being an adult back in my childhood home is like an earthquake to my recovery, shaking me up and showing me where the fault lines are still weak. I AM AN ADULT!!!! I shout it from the rooftops. That manifestation of anger, soaked in the need to assert my individuality, be seen and heard, and above all treated with respect pours from my loins like sweat in a sauna,  Taking joy in the vision of me setting my childhood house on fire and watching it burn to the ground quickly awakened my awareness of  my true feelings. Accepting that I hate this place and realizing that it will never change. Only I can change, giving an entirely new meaning to coming home.