How I Finally Felt at Home in My Life

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After a long pause of consideration, she said, “I finally feel like I’m at home in myself.”

Yesterday, as I was chatting with a former Circler on a call, she was unpacking the shifts she’s felt since her Sacred Circle a few months ago. She was trying to articulate what has changed. Because it wasn’t millions or dollars or new relationships or anything like that. It wasn’t obvious or flashy. It was subtle—and profound.

And I started thinking about this idea of being at home in yourself. What it really means.

Over the last few weeks, three separate clients and former Circlers have told me that there’s something different about me from just a few months ago. I look differently—older or more mature, maybe. And my voice is deeper. And I seem calmer and more grounded—with more conviction about what I do.

I personally can’t speak to any of those shifts. But I can say, like my Circler friend, that I feel more at home in myself. I feel more embodied.

I think of how much time in my life I spent not at home. Wanting to project myself out of this body and into another life. Maybe projecting myself into the gorgeous pictures (and seemingly equally gorgeous lives) on my Instagram feed. Or the multi-million dollar businesses I see plastered across Facebook. Or a different body. Or a different relationship. Or a different home.

Maybe I told myself my body wasn’t perfect. Or that my business never worked the way I wanted it to. Or that my emotions were too strong and painful.

So I left. I didn’t want to be fully here—fully home. Because who wants to live in a home they hate?

Listen, I’ve had many, many apartments in my day. And some real shitty ones (my mom actually cried upon seeing one of them—though fortunately it was just for a summer).

And I can tell you firsthand that you aren’t home much at somewhere you hate. When all I had was a mattress on the floor, a cardboard box with a lamp on it, and a trunk full of clothes, there wasn’t much point to being at home.

I never nested. Because I didn’t want it to be my home.

And I look at my home now. I’m constantly cleaning. I love bringing fresh flowers in. I’m always doing laundry. Because it’s my home. It’s a place I want to be. And I want it to fully feel like me.

If we hate our bodies or our businesses, why would we ever hang out there? Of course we’ll project out and disassociate. And, furthermore, if we aren’t fully present in our lives, how can we ever expect to affect change in them? We aren’t there. We can’t fix up a home we don’t spend time in.

Before I actually knew who I was—before I had that anchoring to my purpose—I would just blindly accept any opportunities that others said were impressive. I’d live life according to them. And my hairstyle or my clothing or my job was just what people told me to be.

I hated my body because I was judging it against a narrative that wasn’t my own. So I decided to figure out who I was and change the narrative.

And these last few years, as I’ve finally come home, it hasn’t always been easy. Like giving up an addiction, we have to feel our feelings and see things fully for the first time. Not leaving the situation. Not mindlessly scrolling Instagram when we’re uncomfortable. But staying fully present.

Sitting with where we’re at in our business, our relationship, our life. And deciding that this is our home. And we’re going to make it feel like us. We’re not going to abandon it and let the squatters—or others’ narratives—take it over. We’re going to be fully present.

And suddenly it starts feeling differently. And we start making the tough decisions—the ones we wanted to avoid before. And we feel ourselves in our lives. Our lives begin to really feel like us. Because we’re finally back at home.

There’s no more potent feeling than being fully at home. Sure, it may not be flashy or big. And it might never make a good front-page article. But it’s us. It’s really us. And that’s all we can ever ask for in a life.

Where are you avoiding inhabiting your life? What parts are you not inhabiting? And what would it take for you to come home?

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