How is being home?
Chantelle standing in front of Flinders Street Station, Melbourne.
So, how is being home?
A question I have been receiving a lot lately after living abroad for four years.
Moving away for me was a big deal. As a second generation immigrant, my parents moved to Australia from a divided South Africa. My mum always encouraged me to travel and by the time I decided to go live in Europe, I had already visited every continent (except Antarctica). I had always looked at people who moved overseas as courageous. Little did I know, that was my brain’s way of hinting at the courage in me.
So, how is being home?
Home is an abstract concept.
As I experienced different cultures my views on the world changed. I made new friends and assimilated to a new way of life. It was in this process that I learnt that there was a world where you could be whoever you wanted and that there was space for all. In this new world I challenged my rigid rules around food and exercise that had once been carefully curated to maintain control. Releasing this grip allowed me to begin healing my relationship with myself. I tried new hobbies, new languages and new ways to love the world around me. Moving away was the best gift I could have given myself.
So, how is being home?
Just as I have changed as an individual, my idea of home has changed.
Home no longer is one city, a dwelling nor a group of people. If you have moved away, you will understand. I have felt at home in many corners of the world. I have found home on dancefloors, in the embrace of strangers and in spoonfuls of meals cooked by new friends. Home is not what it used to be. As I have ventured, my idea of home has become more fluid. With this fluidity comes challenge because home is not what it used to be. You may find yourself yearning for the bright window seat of your favourite cafe. You may find yourself in the city you grew up in and not knowing where you belong. You may find yourself with no usual suspects to turn to and having to reacquaint yourself with a city you once knew so well.
Creating a home elsewhere, of your own volition, changes the meaning of home.
So, how is being home?
There is a feeling often not spoken about when it comes to building a new life. Grief.
Grieving past selves is a necessary part of your personal journey. However, allowing space to love and release past versions of yourself is a process often skipped.
I have needed time to grieve the tabletop dancing version of me, the version of me who thought other people held the key to my happiness, the version of me that was so hungry for acceptance. These last years have changed my perspective on life. Sitting with this new view, I realise that I held a lot of shame from the previous versions of me. There was a time where I gave too much of myself to people who didn’t ask for it, or know what to do with it. I was so hopeful and eager to meet the person who would change my life that I was blinded to the fact that I was there all along.
Moving across the world gave me time and space away from those previous versions. I learnt to embrace my bigness, my Golden Retriever energy, my hope, my playful nature and my love for big conversations. I feel as though I am finally standing in my power everyday rather than giving it away. The most amazing feeling is a new found belief in myself, knowing that I can trust myself to do hard things and even celebrate the small moments.
So, how is being home?
Spending time with family and friends has been truly nourishing.
I have loved curling up to my mum and playing with my nieces and nephew. Connecting with old friends has been heart warming. Brunches spent tucked into Melbourne cafe’s catching up on the last few years, dinners reminiscing about wilder days, picking up just where we left off. Reconnecting to these relationships have been exactly what I needed. There is a comforting feeling when you sit down with your soul friends, the ones who accept you for who you are, and who you have been. The ones you can laugh freely with. Where you don’t have to explain where you’ve been because often, they were there too. These are the friendships you can speak your unpolished thoughts to without fear of judgment. The beauty and warmth in those friendships feels like home.
The familiarity of walking down streets that you have grown up on, seeing familiar faces, new cars but same houses. The absence of a language barrier creates such ease in being able to communicate with everyone, known or unknown. Growing up in Australia there is a lot to love; the nature, the opportunity. Whilst it is easy to get hung up on all the things I would change - I am very grateful my parents chose The Land Down Under. I have lived a privileged life and am appreciative of each milestone accomplishment and floundering moments in between.
So, how is being home?
To be honest, home is not what it once was.
I have left pieces of my heart in many different corners of this globe. Whether I have given them to passers by, left them in corners of bars, under treetops or released them to the starry night sky vowing to never forget them.
Home is the sound of ocean waves.
Home is getting lost in a good book.
Home is in a loved ones arms.
Home is uncontrollable laughter.
Home is not what it once was,
Home is now a place within me.
