A House That Will Never Be Home
About a year ago, we bought a house. At the time it seemed like a good idea, a distraction even, something I could obsess over that wasn’t the state of my marriage and mental health. I became obsessed with remodeling and decorating this house. I had Pinterest boards for every room, lists of things to fill it with, and plans to make it all happen. I moved out only 3 months after moving in. My countless hours of effort were wasted on a house that would never be my home. A place where I could never fully exist, where only parts of me felt welcome, a place I tried so hard to make my own but evidently failed to do so. It turns out that you can put your whole heart and soul into something that in the end cannot uphold you in the ways you need most. The house was the last straw, the last “thing”, or relationship, or community that I have tried to force myself to fit into despite the danger they posed to my mental and physical health. I’m not going to lie, walking away feels a lot like loss at first. In a lot of ways it is. But I have learned that with loss comes space, space to find something that reciprocates the love and energy you give, that nourishes and serves you in the ways that YOU need. Have you ever stopped mid project, sweat pouring down, blood sugar running low, and wondered if what your building is even big enough to hold you? Are you even working on the right project? Sometimes we exhaust ourselves trying so hard to fit or be someone that we aren’t even meant to be in the first place. When we stop chasing the things that aren’t right for us, we make room for things that will truly fill up every inch of our bodies with peace and fulfillment.
I mentioned in my post a few weeks back that I am a recovering people pleaser. I don’t mean I never do things just to make others happy, I simply mean that I’ve begun to say no more often. Smiling, waving, and pretending just to make others comfortable while I am crumbling on the inside is a slow form of self destruction. When I stopped centering the most important decisions for my life around keeping everyone else happy and comfortable, I started trusting myself with my own happiness. At first, I could feel the discomfort in the reaction of others. This was only natural, I wasn’t falling in line with the role I had always played, Ashton doesn’t step out of line, Ashton doesn’t challenge or question systems, and Ashton doesn’t stand up for herself in way where others will see. And it’s true, I didn’t, until I did. I hit a breaking point and that house I spent my blood, sweat, and tears building, I burned to the ground (metaphorically, of course). I had reached such a low point that I physically could not conform anymore. This is what happens when you spend your life building a home that isn’t yours. The roof will begin to leak, the foundation will crumble, and it won’t be able to keep you safe anymore. You might watch it fall down around you or you might just burn it down. And after this happens, after you have let the debris settle, you can start building the life you were meant to build. In the reconstruction you will find the most beautiful and authentic friendships, community, and sense of belonging. This has been my experience. What is truly meant for you will emerge. Your people will support you and new ones will find you. You will finally begin to build a home that is yours.
