this is an observation, not a complaint.

i was sitting in the car

this morning outside of the library and i noticed

that i didn't want to go home.

this is an observation that has been growing in my slowly these past few months.

it's not about who is at home.

it's about me.

i am not feeling "at home" in my home.

our house is a busy one. a place of caring and acceptance

the door is always opening and someone will walk in and stay a short while, or a long while.

and this is something that we are deliberate about and i love.

our home is a place where i have learned to accept people in regardless of the mess and the chaos.

this has been deliberate and taken work

but it supports my belief that vulnerability is the way i want to live my life right now.

honestly sharing our lives with others translates into others seeing that i don't always do the dishes,

i haven't vaccumed in the last few days and yes, there is still a hole in the wall from many years ago.

usually covered up by something, but recently laid bare.

this is a very vulnerable act.

(the hole tells all sorts of stories that may or may not be accurate just by being there)

if i were to guess, and that is pretty much what i do most days,

guess,

i would say my home is lacking a place for me.

a spot that says

"this is for you Tania. come here to refuel. to recharge. to be"

our home is our haven.

our home is our safe place.

i just need a little corner for me.

i am curious how other women make this work.

it feels as if being a mother of teenagers is so much like being a mother of toddlers.

trying to carve out some "mommy time"

i remember it so well. waiting till they were all in bed and then retreating to my creative space.

for a few years it didn't feel necessary because life was easy and we all coexisted together during those golden middle years.

now, i feel myself being absorbed fully by my role of a parent and losing the other parts of me.

that is actually what i am looking for

a little corner will help.