I Wonder... what my home says about me?
Updated: Oct 30, 2019
I have a rational reason for pondering this question. I was once told that a house in one’s dream is symbolic of your mind. It made sense to me when I think of how stressed I feel in a messy, cluttered, chaotic home, where nothing can be found because it is not in the proper drawer or cupboard.
I easily related to this analogy of clean home, clear mind. (Oh dear, I might have a bit of housework to do.)
Yep. It could do with a bit more cleaning is the first thought I notice. Do I always see what is wrong, before noticing what is right?
Am I lazy for hating doing the dishes? If my home symbolises my headspace, I’m the only one judging myself here, aren’t I? (Besides, I have a remedy; it’s called a dishwasher!)
The strata fees are too high. Ah, but do I feel worthy of luxury?
The smoke alarm goes off from merely turning on the oven. Perhaps I am a bit too safety conscious?
It’s burglar proof but hard to get to for visitors and parcel delivery. Do I like keeping people out more than letting good things in?
Sitting on my balcony, which is my most favourite place on the planet (other than in my man’s arms) I sip my coffee ruminating. I started to think of it this way, that a house is a structure that requires 4 essential components:
1. A foundation
3. A roof
4. At least one doorway
I looked at the roof over my head overall feeling blissfully thankful for my home. It makes me feel safe and secure. It is a beautiful, private haven. We are so fortunate really.
This bodes well for a happy, healthy state of mind I reckon.
My inner critic pipes up, “Uh huh. What happens if you lose your income tomorrow? So much for having a home. Bye bye.”
I start to feel rising horror considering this scenario. My inner fear-mongering critic is right. How can I feel safety under my roof when I’ve just let doubt about not having enough money for survival kind of smash holes in it like big chunks of hail? I feel like I want to duck and hide from it, as if these imaginary balls of ice are a serious threat and I’m hiding under the doorways, ready for the whole house to crumble, not just the roof.
See where my imagination gets me?
I want to strengthen my roof because this does not feel very pleasant. It is totally ruining my day. My rational side says, “Hold on a minute, money provides safety somewhat but doesn’t give even the richest person on the planet certainty they will survive tomorrow.”
Yes. The future is a big fat unknown for us all. The present is all I can count on.
With this realisation, I start to relax and telling myself that right now in this very moment, I have a solid roof over my head. It is thick concrete and there is no hail. Chillax girlfriend. I lean back on the couch with a sigh at my fears receding.
Then my curious brain goes, “What about the rest of the house? I wonder what the walls represent?”
Ah, but I immediately link the walls with how they keep me enclosed and surround me with warmth and comfort. And they mark a boundary.
Yes, these walls are the people I keep close around me, the need for belonging, but also the need to have boundaries with outsiders. Wow, I like these walls very much. I like my feeling of belonging with the man I live with. I love feeling like I’m wrapped in his love. I feel very blessed. And I love, love, love being able to keep people out of the inner perimeter of the walls who feel unsafe or don’t respect my boundaries.
A bit agoraphobic perhaps. So what? It makes me feel good and really it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.
“Such perfect walls and what they contain. This is my joy”, my heart reminds me, and I smile. Happy heart.
The foundation. What is my home built on? My apartment is high up, like up in the sky and the foundation way below. How apt. I’m up in my head so much, I listen to my thoughts and not my body enough.
“A-ha! That’s it”, the inner genius makes the connection.
The foundation for my life is my physical health. I could do with making this much stronger. Health is the foundation I need to make strong in my life. This has consequences if I don’t. Nothing else works. The whole house falls down, so to speak.
My foundation needs a builder right away.
“I can be my own engineer and construction worker”, says my inner motivator. This spark of hope for a better future helps fill my brain with the healthy, feel good stuff too. After all, getting enough of the love-drug oxytocin, the purposeful dopamine and feel good serotonin is important too.
Finally, a house needs a doorway. The other critical part of a house is a way in and a way out, yeah? The entrance and exit, the inflow and outflow. It straight away symbolises to me that opening the front door to step out is the creative urge for self-expression. When I close the door coming home it is me-time to reflect, to receive inner guidance and self-care.
For me, this is writing. I feel that guidance comes in, I get to experience my own inner space and then I get to express myself out there in the world.
“Lucky me”, says my soul who is my eternal cheerleader.
Overall, I am left with the realisation that there is much to love about where I "live".
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