Home is Where You Hang Your Hat...and Heart

They say that when you dream of home, it is always the home in which you were raised. For me, that is definitely true. I am 44 years old, I have been married for 22 years and we have 18 year old twins, yet, when I dream, I often find myself right back in my childhood bedroom. I can still see the pale yellow walls, the yellow curtains, and my white furniture. I can still remember how hot it used to get in the summer and how cold it was in the winter. It was a small room, but it was mine. My dad has since made it into a computer/train room, but whenever I am at the house, the days in my room feel like yesterday. The whole house is like a part of the family. My parents still live there. I cannot even imagine for one second driving by the house without it being a part of my family; I do not want to think about it.

About 2 or so years ago, I had as a client an 18 year old, whom I will refer to as Rebecca, who suffered with tremendous anxiety and panic attacks. Her parents divorced when she was a younger child. She, her mother and brother moved into a town house. Her father quickly remarried a woman who already had a child. She did not realize it at first, but she was suffering with feelings of grief over, not only her parents’ marriage, but also her childhood home. As we peeled back the layers in therapy, she came to realize a big source of her anxiety was the feeling that she had no roots, no anchor, no place where she felt she could call her home.

Once she made that realization, I helped her to reframe the meaning she gave to “home.” It was through that work with Rebecca that I too realized what home really means. The house I grew up in is my home because my parents made it a wonderful place of love, family, friends, celebrations, laughter, tears and so many memories I cannot even count. That home is the place where my siblings and I can catch up with each other with our parents. The house itself is not the anchor; the anchor is my family.

In my adult life, my husband and I have moved more times than I care to say and for various reasons. The house we lived in the longest caused us the biggest aggravation. It was an old house and there was one problem after another, sort of like the movie “The Money Pit”, only it was not funny! Yet, that was my children’s childhood home. For me, whenever my husband and kids are with me, I am at home. As long as I focus on God and the love I have for my family, where we happen to reside is inconsequential. It says in Psalm 127:1, “Unless Adonai builds the house, its builders work in vain.” In other words, unless we recognize what is important and that we are where God wants us to be, we can live in a magnificent abode and still feel unhappy.

Rebecca realized her main anchor was her little family. Her mother was her rock and her goofy brother made her feel safe and comfortable. The house in which her father and new step sister and mother live lessened in importance to her as she realized her town house was her home, because her mom and brother were there. This freed her to let go of the anger and resentment she felt towards her father, step-mother and sister. It freed her to go off to college feeling more secure, because her roots were not in a physical building, but in the family that loves her. Although we never discussed her spiritual beliefs in therapy, I know for certain that God loves her too and He will lead her to where she needs to go.

My parents provided me with a good foundation and it is because of them, and my Creator, that I am the person I am today. They are my home. My husband is my home. My children are my home. The message I would like to leave you with is this. Do not put value on things that are temporary and made by the hands of people. Put your energy and focus on the people in your life whom you love and treasure. That is what really matters. God bless!