You Can Leave Home But Home Leaves With You

 I will be honest when I say that, as a child, I felt something close to hatred toward both of my parents. 

Even writing those words stirs guilt in me. But feelings do not disappear simply because we wish them away.

I lived for the day I could leave.

I dreamed of freedom.

Freedom from the rules.

Freedom from the punishment.

Freedom from the fear.

As soon as I graduated from high school, I wanted out. College held little interest for me then. All I wanted was a place of my own. I believed that once I walked out that door, my life would finally begin.

And in many ways, it did.

But what I did not understand was this:

I took my childhood with me.

The fear.

The shame.

The beliefs I had formed about myself and the world.

I left the house, but the house had not yet left me.

Life brought both beauty and heartbreak. There were many good years. I had the white picket fence, two children, three dogs, and a successful husband. From the outside, it looked like the life I had always wanted.

Yet beneath it all, old wounds were quietly shaping my choices. I sabotaged myself in ways I did not understand. The pain of childhood echoed through my relationships, especially my marriage.

It wasn’t until recovery and therapy that I began to see the truth.

My past was not behind me.

It was living through me.

And once I understood that, healing could finally begin.