There’s no place like Home for the Holidays

Finding my way home for Christmas.

Over the last month or so I have found myself repeatedly being asked the same question. Whether it’s from a random store clerk, a guy I’m on a date with, friends, or students, I am asked if I get to go home for the holidays. Seems like a simple enough question right?! But the reality is that I humor them with a response of “no, not this year” or “I don’t typically go home for the holidays.” This is then normally followed with some sympathetic comment where the other party says that they wish I would be able to go, or that they are so sorry that I live so far away from home. Thing is, when I say that I don’t get to go home for the holidays, I’m lying to them. It’s just easier. As someone who doesn’t define home by bricks and mortar, or by the place I grew up, I always find a way to make it home for the holidays. Home just rarely means my parents house in the British seaside town that I grew up in. Home is where my soul sings and my heart is happy.

I have come to learn that home is not a place. It cannot be defined by bricks and mortar, nor by familiar roads, buildings, and people. Home is a feeling. My home resides within my heart. Yet I have spent many years of life wondering if I have ever been home, leaving me homesick for a place I may be yet to visit. Life has taken me on a journey where I have been gifted many of these physical homes. In each of these places there have been people and things to love. I believe that I was undoubtedly led to each of these places for a distinct purpose, but they have only been temporary homes. One of my favorite quotes by an unknown author reads:

Scatter your heat and you will have lots of homes

My heart has been scattered in multiple places across of the world, each of which has given me a glimpse of what home could be. However, there has only been one consistent in each of these places- me and my body.

While here on earth, my body will always be my home. It is, after all, the transporter of my soul. I value treating my home with love, care, and affection, however, in reflection, my eating disorder has in fact been part of my quest to find home. To make my body, that I acknowledge as my one constant in this life, more comfortable to live in. Yet, the reality and irony is that this constant desire to make my home better only served to make me hate it more and more. I was, perhaps unknowingly, abusing and destroying the home given to me by my Lord and Savior. Hurting my personal home, only made me more homesick for the physical home I have spent years searching for, in doing so, pushing it further away. This additional inhabitant in my home took over, pushing me away from my comforts, my family, and all that I value.

All this means that to truly come home it is imperative for me to practice radical acceptance. Until I can accept the reality of my body, my life, and my existence for what it is, I will never truly be home. I cannot be defined by my suffering, by my fear, and by my desire to control my destiny. When I finally come home, my life will not be devoid of pain, but rather will see me equipped with the skills and self-love that will allow me to accept the joy and gift of life that I have been so graciously given.

Yet my quest to find my home does not end with my life on earth. I am destined to return to my true home thanks to the redemption of my Lord and Savior. As I strive to live my life in the image of Christ, I will find my home. When I come home I will be authentically and apologetically myself, something that I am unsure I have ever consisitently been. I will not only love God and others unconditionally, but I will also love myself in this way. My overall journey home while on earth and ultimately to my Father can thus be determined by one thing- recovery.

As I continue down the treacherous path of my recovery, I am getting closer to home. The trek seems never ending with more setbacks than I could imagine, but every now and then I glimpse my home, and that is typically motivation enough. Recovery means accepting my body by feeding, fueling, and perhaps even loving it sometime. This is the only way my soul will have enough energy to sing, and my heart enough power to love. Recovery allows me to grow from my past, opening my heart to loving others and being loved, which will ultimately lead me to the home I have been searching for. It allows me to be vulnerable and authentic with Jesus, thereby strengthening my most fundamental relationship on my walk home. To go home I have to keep going, and just like the elephants take it one step at a time. I don’t always believe that this path is leading me home, but the voices of my team and love ones remind me to trust that this is, in fact, the only way home.