What It Means to Be Home

Me, deep in thought, feeling at home wherever I am

I've moved fifteen times in the last twenty years.

Each time, I'd unpack the same boxes, arrange the same furniture, and begin the familiar ritual of making a new place feel like home. But somewhere between addresses seven and eight, I started to realize something: the challenge wasn't just about hanging pictures or finding the perfect spot for my coffee table. It was about something much deeper.

The real work wasn't making my house feel like home. It was finding my way back home to myself.

When Home Becomes a Moving Target

For years, I told myself I was just adaptable. New jobs, new relationships, new cities—I learned to flow with it. I mastered the logistics of relocation, but I also perfected a more subtle skill: the art of shapeshifting.

In each new environment, I became a chameleon. I’d unconsciously read the room, figure out what was valued, what kept the peace, and I learned to become that. It felt like a survival skill. But every small adjustment, every sanded-down edge of my personality, took me another step away from who I really was.

My body was the first to object. It began sending distress signals, my mind was too busy to hear: a low-grade hum of inflammation, a bone-deep fatigue I couldn't sleep off. For years, I treated them as separate problems, annoyances to be managed. I didn't yet understand that my body was keeping score, and it knew I wasn't home.

The Ripple Effect of Displacement

Being disconnected from your authentic self creates a ripple effect that shows up everywhere—even in your physical environment.

There's something profound about this pattern I've noticed in my life and in the lives of those I work with. When we lose touch with our internal "home"—that centered, authentic place within ourselves—the displacement doesn't stay contained. It seeps into our relationships, creating conflict where there should be connection. It manifests in our environment, sometimes literally: the mold that appeared in one of my houses felt like a perfect metaphor for what happens when we're not truly inhabiting our spaces with intention and authenticity.

It shows up as that gnawing feeling in your gut when you're in a relationship where you can't quite be yourself. The weird, confused state of mind that emerges when you've been performing a version of yourself for so long that you forget who you are. The lack of psychological safety that makes every interaction feel like walking on eggshells.

These aren't separate problems requiring separate solutions. They're all symptoms of the same fundamental displacement: being away from home within yourself.

The Journey Back

Learning to recognize these signals has become one of my most valuable skills. That subtle sensation of something feeling off—whether it's physical discomfort, relational tension, or even issues in my living environment—has become information rather than inconvenience.

The journey back home usually unfolds like this:

• Noticing the disconnect first. Sometimes it's a gnawing feeling in my body. Sometimes it's confusion in my mind. Sometimes it shows up as conflict in a relationship or even problems in my physical environment.

• Naming it, giving it space and attention instead of pushing through or ignoring it.

• Seeking support when needed—often in coaching sessions, where we can explore what's happening with someone who can help us see clearly.

• Listening to the need underneath, the boundary that might be getting crossed, the authentic part of me that's asking for attention.

• Analyzing what can be done. Sometimes it's a conversation that needs to happen. Sometimes it's a dietary adjustment. Sometimes it's as significant as a physical move.

• Taking action that aligns with who we are, what we really need, and what will bring us back into an authentic relationship with ourselves.

Finding our way home is an ongoing practice of listening, adjusting, and realigning.

My Slow Walk Home

For me, the journey back home started with the most fundamental relationship of all: the one with my body. When I finally began listening to what it was telling me, everything else started to shift.

I adjusted my diet, honoring the food sensitivities I'd been ignoring for years. I made the difficult decision to leave a stable, secure job that I genuinely loved—but that wasn't matching my health needs.

I started exploring things that brought me genuine joy, rather than things I thought I should enjoy. In my real estate work, I began focusing on the transactions that truly made me happy. I began coaching people through their real estate transactions and helping them find homes that were authentic fits for them.

And perhaps most importantly, I started letting go. I released the home that no longer supported my family's needs, even though it meant another move. I stepped back from relationships that were consistently draining rather than replenishing. I stopped trying to force things that weren't meant for me.

Finally, for the first time in years, I feel at home—with myself, in my house, in my relationships, with my friends, and everywhere else I go. Not because everything is perfect, but because I'm showing up as authentically myself in each of these spaces.

What It Means To Be Home

Now I know what real home feels like, and it has certain unmistakable qualities.

When everything feels right in the body. When it feels safe. When you can show up as fully yourself without walking on eggshells, without the fear of being judged or attacked.

When you walk into a space and know, viscerally, that this is exactly where you want to be.

When you're alone with another person and instead of feeling drained, you feel replenished.

When your body can relax because it trusts that its needs will be heard and honored.

Home is where your authentic self is not just welcomed but celebrated. It's where you don't have to choose between being loved and being real.

The Many Ways Back

Through my work as a coach and my studies in conflict resolution, I've learned that people leave themselves in countless ways. And they can find their way back in just as many.

Sometimes it's about creating physical safety and comfort—letting go of a house that has too much emotional weight attached to it and finding a living space that truly supports who you are and how you want to live moving forward. Sometimes it's about healing relationships that have been damaged by years of not showing up authentically. Sometimes it's about learning to listen to your body again, to honor its needs and trust its wisdom.

The beautiful thing is that working on one area often creates positive ripples in all the others. When you find a physical space that feels like home, it becomes easier to be authentic in your relationships. When you start honoring your body's needs, you develop better boundaries everywhere else. When you heal one relationship, you learn skills that transform how you show up in all your connections.

The way back is always through authenticity. And to be able to live authentically, I've learned, is exactly what it means to be home.

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If any of this resonates with you—if you recognize that displacement, that exhaustion from performing instead of being—know that the journey back home is always available. I support people through coaching and as a realtor in the Bay Area, helping you create the conditions for authenticity and finding home in all areas of your life.