Home / not home

Confronting and healing survival patterns after a childhood of abuse, leading to the end of a marriage, I search for Home.

Home / not home

I’ve never felt at Home.

The houses I’ve lived in never felt safe. I lived with my abuser until I was 15. I lived with depression and dissociation and eating disorders until I was 35.

My second husband asks where I’ve been when I’m not home. They've always asked where I am, even when I am here.

As I leave him, I sense a groundedness. A completely foreign, remarkable sensation my body.

A moment of pause as I look out a window. An inhale as I stand with trees. A reverence as my dog passes under my hand.

With plastic cameras and expired film, I make a photo whenever this grounding arrives. For two years I have sought this feeling, this quiet searching.

I gather the photos of this feeling together. I see that I can feel safe, I can feel at Home. Whenever I am Gone.

Safe on a cliffside. Safe behind the wheel. Safe on summits, in forests. Safe in strange beds and in no bed at all. Safe when I meet bears and wolves. Safe when I lay naked in creeks while my dog watches for squirrels.

This is Home.

I am Home.