I’m living in my eighth house share now. The people in my life who still have physical address books make jokes about how many layers of Tippex they’ve used keeping up to date with my whereabouts - a coat for each time I’ve moved.
I’ve had more addresses in the last ten years than I’ve had beach holidays. It makes for a thick layer of Tippex.
When I re-entered a house share at the beginning of this year, I was questioning what ‘home’ was to me. I’d been living in a flat that was mine before that. I’d decorated it the colours I liked and arranged my things on the surfaces.
Having spent all my house sharing years romanticising what it would be like to live in a space where I could fill every cupboard, leave my things in the lounge without feeling like I was cluttering up the communal space and lock the front door at night knowing that there would be no one else returning home, I finally got a taste of what I’d been longing for.
At first, I revelled in filling a whole cupboard with mugs, rather than cramming one or two in the cupboard allotted to me in my shared kitchen. I got a huge amount of satisfaction from cleaning a space and knowing that it would stay that way unless I made it dirty. All the irritations that used to get under my skin when I house shared did melt away. And that was enough for a while.
I was so certain then that these were the things that made a home, homely. But when I had a chance to reality test it, I learned that they weren’t.
And so when I entered my new house share in January, I paid attention to what it was that made a new space begin to feel like home.
I unpacked my stuff in my room and displayed my things on the surfaces that belong to me, visual cues that this is somewhere I can express myself in those ways.
Spending time unwinding in the space has been important to me. I’ve lived here two months now and in that time, I’ve proven to my mind and my body that I can relax here. I have time and space to cook, write and find respite. Evenings in and slow weekend mornings have helped me to associate the space with feeling calm.
And then there’s something less tangible that I’m still trying to put my finger.
’ piece ‘The Characteristics That Make a “Perfect” Home’ helped me to articulate it. She writes:"Perfection in the context of a home is not about achieving a polished, magazine-worthy look. Rather, it's about creating a space that functions in sync with your lifestyle, brings you comfort, and reflects your style…
A house is a physical structure. A home embodies your tastes and routines for supporting a life well-lived. A home doesn’t always mean four walls and a roof. A home does not require ownership. A home is where needs are met and people are safe to express who they are.”
When I think about how in-sync we are with our living spaces, maybe home could be a process rather than a physical space. One where we take time to connect to a place, adapt it and prove to ourselves that it meets our needs, allows us to express ourselves and find comfort. It is within that process that I feel more at home. Not, what I thought for so long to be the case, ownership.
More explorations of home I’ve enjoyed writing & reading:
On Losing Home and Everything in it ‘I could be anywhere. My body is my refuge and my home’
So lovely that my writing connected with your feelings! Thank you x