My Home
I thought about my home, as the summer of 2025 began. My husband and I realized that we had a newfound sense of freedom. Saying goodbye to our beloved pup was shattering beyond what I can describe in words. For about 3 years, caretaking had become our norm as his health declined. We would have done anything for him, and we often did. After his transition, guilt aside, we found ourselves without caretaking responsibilities. We could go anywhere and do what we wanted within a normal range. By that I mean we aren’t made of money and still have jobs to attend to. But other than that, we were now able to come and go as we pleased.
As I sit outside on my back deck writing this, it is a summer Sunday morning in mid-August. The birds are chirping, and the sun is shining. It’s warm but not hot. It’s nearly perfect.
This is HOME.
We’ve been gone all summer, and it’s been amazing. On this particular weekend, I wanted to be home. By that, I mean the address I put on my legal documents, my house.
This Year
I love the work I’ve done this year in the automotive industry, but some weeks are hard. Over the course of the week, I’ve facilitated in a room that was hot as hell, which is tough for the perimenopausal. I got heckled, but also felt a deep sense of pride in how I handled it. And I held space for a group who were clearly in need of someone willing to listen to them, which lasted well beyond the allocated meeting time.
All this, knowing that my blood was about to come.
What I’ve learned about perimenopause by being in tune with my body and my cycle is that 1-2 days before I bleed and the first day of my blood, it is important that I slow down. I need to be gentle with myself and allow for more rest. I try not to let it run my life, but I also know that I can’t be the superwoman I’d like to be.
Home
Home allowed me to slow down.
My home gave me the space to make my friend Tori’s homemade energy balls. She taught me the pitfalls of drinking coffee on an empty stomach, and eating one of these in the morning makes a difference.
Being home allowed us to visit our favorite brew pub, Rushford & Sons. We spent almost every Sunday in winter here, and I credit it with making winter suck less. I’ve missed it.
It didn’t hurt that there were plenty of dogs there, including my favorite St. Bernard brothers.
Our Home
It sure feels good to be home. It feels good to have my feet on the ground. I’ve been to almost every US state and have seen beautiful places, but Southern New England is a place I am proud to call home. The town I live in can feel a bit like Wellsbury, a reference to Ginny & Georgia, my new guilty pleasure on Netflix. But this little corner is mine – always with respect to the Nipmucs, of course.
I’ve also realized that with my line of work and desire to see the world, home can be anywhere. This year, my job has taken me to Michigan, Southern Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and Western New York. The only way I can make those places feel like home is through effort and intention.
Typically, I stay in Marriott-branded hotels. Because of all the travel I’ve done in my career, I have lifetime Silver Elite status. So yes, it seems they are extra welcoming when I arrive, and I do appreciate it. As I settle into my room, I like to take a few moments for meditation. Nothing extensive, just 3-5 minutes to get grounded.
I check the Native Lands app to recognize and appreciate the land as I arrive, both physically and mentally. My unpacking ritual is important to me because it makes me feel less like I am living out of a suitcase and more like I am at home. It also makes my life easier for getting where I need to go in the morning, sometimes very early.
First Things First
First, my toiletries are laid out in the order of use. I get this whole place to myself so I can put these things wherever I want. Also, my little ceramic wolf plays a role. Given to me by a dear friend years ago when we visited the wolf sanctuary in Colorado, it gives me strength. Funny enough, my psychic friend Melissa did a reading for me and told me that I’ve had a wolf with me since the day I was born. Interesting.
Second
I hang my clothes. Best to get them out of the suitcase for some air. I set up my computers, do a little work, and get myself organized for the next day.
Then, I move. There’s something kind of fun about a hotel fitness center. And after a day of traveling, if I don’t move, I know that I will feel like shit the next day.
Depending on how I feel, I allow myself to make it a DoorDash kind of night. Or I get out and explore the local gems.
A Gem
A gem I’ve found this year is Ashley’s Signature Restaurant. Not only is the food amazing, but when I walk in, I feel welcome and safe. Frank, the bartender, and many of the regulars have become friends. In a country taken over by chain restaurants and strip malls, it is important to me to support places like this.
The hardest part is settling in to get some sleep, because the place I sleep best is in my campervan. The place I sleep second best is my bed at home. Strange, I know.
Hotels, no matter how at home I try to make them, still are rough.
A Lesson Learned
If I’ve learned anything, it is…
Put the phone down and DO NOT turn on the TV.
If I fail at this, I will inevitably lose track of time. I will watch endless hours of brain cell-killing, stupid shit. What does help is my usual ritual of lavender oil on the feet and spray on my pillow.
Curling up with a good book is also supportive. My current read is The Book of Joy, which chronicles a meeting between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
I truly believe that home is more of a feeling than a place. What is important is the intention we make, the rituals we bring, and the communities that we surround ourselves with.
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