Turns out . . . You can go home ❤ There’s a specialness to waking up in my childhood home as an adult. It feels safe in a way nowhere else does, or probably ever will. It’s not that I feel “unsafe” at my own home or even other places, but there’s a nostalgic, heart-warming, glowy feeling that goes beyond physical safety into a deeper place. A place where my heart feels safe. Where I know that I know that I know I am loved, deeply and without reservation or conditions, because I was loved here in that way as a child. Where the connections were made at an early age that I can mess up and still be loved. That I am safe to be myself, while at the same time always encouraged to be the best version of myself. Where I was told “I’m proud of you” over and over, as recently as last night... And where I saw this behavior modeled day after day in the very people creating this safe space for me. I don’t doubt that I would still feel this way with the same people, but in a new or different h...
Fighting apathy with intentionality.