Aasritha

There is a quote by Charles Bukowski that goes as follows: “When nobody wakes you up in the morning and when nobody waits for you at night and when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it, freedom or loneliness?” To which my response always was: Are they truly different? 

My parents have championed independence since I was in preschool. I learned my routine when I was 3 years old and started doing it on my own because my parents didn’t have the time to watch me. I grew up on my own for six years before we moved to India and was raised alongside my two younger cousins. I had the experience of being an only child and an eldest child at the same time. I feel so lucky to say I was able to have my own space and found so much joy in helping raise two wonderful humans. But I became so accustomed to constantly taking care of myself and others and creating a sense of home that I forgot that maybe, just maybe, it would be nice for someone else to take care of me too. I kept feeling displaced, like nowhere was home.

Home is supposed to be a feeling, I think, above all else. In my independence, I was extremely convinced that I could create my own home. I learned (and on some level, pushed myself) to be happy to spend time alone, and authentically adore myself and my personality. As I’ve grown up, I have started to feel that way, and I do feel that I am my own home. I didn’t realize how lonely relying on only yourself can be.

So, in the last 5 years, I started a somewhat nomadic journey. I became absolutely obsessed with the idea of home. I moved from state to state, country to country, thinking I could find a physical place that felt right. I went back to my parents’ hometowns in India, and even to my own in Oregon, thinking it would solve the problem. But it didn’t solve it. Nothing and no one felt like home except me. Turns out, growing up a very lonely little girl means you grow up with a part of you that is still a very lonely little girl.

There is a part of me that feels guilty for complaining— I get to travel, I’m never tied down, I’m as free as a bird. The thing is, every bird needs a place to land, and if they don’t know where that is, their wings are exhausted, and flying feels more like a burden than a privilege.

What I’m trying to say is I feel lost more often than not, which is fine. Maybe I desire a certain amount of control over my life, but as a therapist and a growing human, I’ve learned that control for the most part is illusory, and it’s not necessarily tied to freedom. Some days I wish I was a child again, nodding off after dinner, and being carried to bed by my father. Back then, having less control actually felt more beautiful, more liberating. 

So if you’re lost in any part of your life— or all of it— you’re not alone. I hope you know that you’re worth being chosen and cared for, that you’re worth all the hard work and the effort. Home is whatever you want it to be. It can be a person, a feeling, or an idea that you have the power to create. In my heart, a little girl is wondering what home will feel like. I hope to find that feeling for her. To paraphrase Abraham Verghese, perhaps that is the definition of home; not where you are from, but where you are wanted.