Not home

Hi Reader,

Something occurred to me last night: maybe one way to get at this ongoing investigation into “coming home” is to look at what it’s like to not be home.

When I’m not home, there’s a filter between what’s going on in my head and what I’m expressing.

I’ll have a thought, and it’s immediately followed by some internal dialogue that sounds something like one of these:

• that will upset someone
• that’s not a nice thing to say
• this won’t go the way you want
• that’s not appropriate
• no, that’s not quite right
• you can’t say that

After some internal debate—most of which I zip through without even being conscious of it—the thing I originally wanted to say gets lost, maybe forever.

When I’m not home, it’s like I’m holding myself back from engaging with other people or the world. I don’t say what I think, don’t do what I want, because I’m afraid. Afraid of how others will see me, or how they will respond, or of being wrong or selfish or stupid or and of the other things human beings are. I’m trying to paint a picture of myself that’s different than the reality. I’m hiding.

That’s not home.

Other times—mostly when I’m in what feels like a safe space—I relax the filters and just say and do what’s on my mind and handle whatever comes up. If someone gets upset, that gets handled. If someone judges me for my selfishness or tactlessness or whatever, that gets handled. That’s being home.

That feels like a much more powerful way to be. And it takes much less energy (in a way, at least).

But boy can it be challenging even to notice when the defenses go up, the filters slip into place, and suddenly I’m not home any more.

Do you relate to any of this? What do your filters sound like?

For me, it seems like my first step to coming home will be to catch myself in the act of running those filters, hiding, and not expressing myself. After that, I bet the next step will be to tell on myself, embarrassing as that might be.

And then we’ll see.