moving out of the closet

What is it like to exist in your own space instead of someone else’s? What is it like to not simply exist, but to live–truly live as your whole self?

I don’t really know. I’ve only had small glimpses of this and most of them were recent experiences. I’m so used to feeling like I only exist in someone else’s space. That I only…exist.

That all I am here for is storage for someone else’s hopes and dreams for me. I feel like I have been used for storage for hate and fear. Like I am just a closet of fear that is constantly crushing me and I can really relate to Sisyphus. Up to this point, life has only felt like carrying a boulder up a hill to keep it from rolling on top of me. And the cycle repeats.

How does it feel to get out? To finally BE out. To finally BE. How does it feel to breathe–as if you’re breathing for the first time–the air filling your lungs without suffocating you first?

I don’t know…but this week I’m beginning to move out of my parent’s house into a house that’s going to be my space. I need to move out of the closet into the house–the house that is becoming me. I’m not just a closet living in someone else’s world. It feels like I’m coming home to myself. Soon I’ll actually know what being home is like.

What. does. it. feel. like. to come home. I’m not sure I can imagine it. I’m told it feels amazing. That I’ll be able to be more myself and grow.

Seriously though. What does it mean to make space for yourself? To take root somewhere and just. grow. Grow like a tree planted by the rivers of water….with roots running deep. With branches growing up and out and existing in a space that it is mean to belong in. What does it mean to belong?

 

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