“white Home printer vase on white wooden board” by Lea Böhm on Unsplash

Home. Where Is It? What Does It Mean?

I was looking for it in Buddhism, yoga and meditation. I was looking for it in Belgian chocolate, Argentinian wine, and Colombian coffee. I was looking for it in Dutch, Australian and Indian men.

I belong here.

I come from here.

These are my roots.

I never had a home like this

These experiences helped me grow a thick skin. Build tall walls. Always be cautious and not trust anyone. Closed. Numb. Overprotective.

If my true north is not “at home,” where is it?

I have never felt proud of my country, my people and my culture. I don’t know what it means. I can’t feel it. It is quite sad.

My personal story includes a complete rejection and renunciation of my own roots.

“I will get out of this. I will get out of this. I will break free.”

The world is full of grown-up people who don’t know who they are. They walk around carrying their heads on their bodies completely unaware of their own wounds, flaws and without a single thought of the fact that maybe no one owes them anything and they are responsible for their own lives.

I found my home

Where is it? Where is my home?

After years of searching I realized that home is in emotional freedom from men, external influences and other people. Home is in taking full responsibility for my life, my actions and thoughts. Home is in constant self-awareness.

Home is understanding that no one can give me the love, the safety, the freedom and the happiness I seek. Not my husband, not my children, not my family, not my country, not my government. NO ONE AND NO THING AND NO PLACE CAN GIVE ME MY HOME.

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