Home sweet home

Hey folks, are we all sitting comfortably around the campfire? Well, I think it's time for a sing song,

       "Hhhhhoooommmeeeeee,
        home on the .................."

Oh wait, where is home?

       "Home, Noun
        The place or a place
        where one lives.
        A house or dwelling.
        A family or other group
        living in a house or
        other place.
        A persons country, city
       etc esp viewed as a
       birthplace, a residence
       during ones early years,
       or a place dear to one"
                    Collins Dictionary

There are more definitions, but I'm not sure sports analogies are going to be very useful here.

When a person thinks of home, they usually think of the place they live now, the place they have settled, made a nest, called home. Others think of the place they grew up, no matter where they live, when they return to their birthplace they consider it returning home. Some consider it the country they are from. When returning from holiday or working abroad, they are coming home. Whatever the case, home is usually a place of comfort and security. But what if you don't get that sense from the word 'home', what if, like me, you are a nomad?

I call where I live now 'home' as a generic term, mainly as it's shorter to say "I'm off home" then "I'm going back to the place where I live now". But I never get a sense of settling, of putting down roots. In fact, for me, it's the opposite. I'm always waiting to move on, to get going again. It sounds awful, I know. Here I am, married with a family, and I'm saying I don't feel at home! Don't get me wrong, I love what I have here, and it's no reflection on my family, I just don't like to put down roots or 'making myself at home'. I'm not comfortable staying in one place or not being able to move on. I don't like becoming attached to things because no matter what, eventually you become unattached!!!!!!!

I've always been a nomad, maybe because it means you don't have to work do hard to fit in if you are always moving on. To me, that notion is fantastic. I hate the fact that I have always felt like I don't fit, that I have to try harder then everyone else. I become a chameleon, changing to fit in with every occasion, to make everyone happy. Surely it's easier and less exhausting to keep moving, to purposely be the outsider, because it's painful to be the outsider in your own home!

Home for many is a place to run to when things get tough or you need help or comfort. In these times my instinct is to run away from, not to, home. Maybe that makes me a coward or selfish, but for me it's a way to defend myself, to protect myself against harm. Running away gives me a chance to breath, to get my head straight. That way I can bury the pain deep, hide my weakness and come back fighting. Is this not the way everyone reacts? No? Just me then!!!

As an ocd sufferer I am constantly searching for perfection, another cause of anguish when it comes to 'home'. Home, for me, is where everything should be perfect, has to be right, and the problem is that I can never make home perfect because no matter what I do to make home perfect, I will never be perfect and therefore home will never be perfect with me in it! So instead I shy away from home, always itching to move again, to start off again on another adventure!

Is it any wonder I called this blog a campsite and not a home, or office or other permanent structure?? Maybe even my ocd doesn't feel 'at home'!

I'm still hopeful that one day all this running and adventure will bring me back to where I belong, that one day this long trek will bring me back home!