Our House

Have you ever walked into someones home and thought. What the fuck happened in here? When I visit my childhood home from time to time I have those moments where I wonder, what happened in between these walls, why are there so many stains on this carpet, why don't we have wallpaper in the hallway, why do we still have the same kitchen from when the house was built in the 60s, and what the hell is that smell?

I've been sitting on this concept of words for a while. I've been trying to figure out how to best express what I feel when I'm present in homes, in buildings, and in my body. What am I feeling, and what would make me feel better. Well it would make me feel better if that table was clean, so let me go get the rag. It would make me feel better if this pile of clothes were folded up neatly. It would make me feel better if those blinds were open instead of closed. It would make me feel better if there was a mirror right in this spot so that I could see things a little bit clearer, so I can see myself better.

All I ever dream about sometimes is just having the perfect apartment, or the perfect home to call my own, one where I can create peace. A home where whatever I say goes, and I can tell people to take their damn shoes off. This is less so about me wanting to put a down payment on a home, even though I do want this. What I want is stability in my home, the home that is my body and my vessel. I want the roof to be sturdy so that when it rains I don't go insane. I want the door fixed so my thoughts and emotions can come and go as they please. I want the floors polished just because I want my floors to look a certain way. I want to make my messes and clean them up. I believe that when we have not done the work to clean up our vessel, to embody the place we want our spirits to inhabit we can attract the spirits we don't want.

I have always been curious about why ordinary houses become haunted houses. Likewise, I've considered the possibility that maybe the house was haunted, but what if the house is haunted simply because of what you brought inside. Insidious was a film I think that touched on a family thinking their house was haunted, but it was maybe moreso the fact that their son that was haunted.

At the basis it is understood that houses that are haunted have spirits that are left behind. Those spirits used to be people or living things. And their emotions, or traumas are living in that space separate from their bodies.

When I think about where my mind can sometimes go into the past, replaying the same traumas and emotions over and over and over I feel like a damned haunted house. I feel separate from my body. I feel like a house that hasn't been swept in years. I feel like a house you would see on hoarders where everything comes in but nothing goes out. But it isnt until I actually look at the material, and stop stepping over it, or looking under it that I realize why those spirits are still there. And that spirit of fear, dressed in unworthiness smells like shit.

Fear can make us hold onto things that we don't need. It can make us hoard cartons of milk when we think we'll run out. It makes us feel secure having those extra cartons of milk, but after some time once you get ready to fix a bowl of cereal you realize you have a bunch of spoiled milk that you can't truly enjoy. I have a bunch of clothes that I've been holding under the guise of a few fears. Maybe I won't be able to find this thing again because it was a limited run. Maybe I don't want to throw it away or get rid of it because I don't want to hurt the feelings of the person who gave it to me. We can become attached to the way something makes us feel even if it makes us feel bad.

I love thinking about all the ways that we can see love in a home. Like in the kitchen, theres a part of the wooden floor thats bare because of how many hours mom spent standing in that spot coming up with her greatest potions of love like fried chicken made with pancake batter, or candy yams. But when I'm home I think a lot about those moments of pain and trauma that run through my head just from being inside those walls and I feel tired... I walk into the house and literally want to sleep all day. One thing that has helped is making the effort to get rid of some of the things in the family home with my family. We all slept on that bunkbed, we all slept on that worn out couch, but now its time for them to hit the curb. Then we can go shopping and finding something better we want to replace it with.

My parents own their home and sometimes I wonder if they would consider themselves to take ownership of the good parts and the bad parts. Either way my Dad is gonna put out decorations for Halloween and my Mom is going to put up a tree for Christmas every year, whether or not the house has tasted fresh air is a different story.

But, who you gonna call when there's something strange in your neighborhood?

I'd hope that you'd call yourself back home.