I can't go the way I came.

Hi there. It feels like it's been forever since I last put anything here. A mix of being far far away physically and then coming back and feeling just as far away mentally.

So I did it. I went away to the other side of the world by myself. I saw new amazing things, ate amazing food, saw amazing music, did things spontaneously, found some confidence and talked to complete strangers and made new friends. When I was there it helped a lot. I had some days where the loneliness could take over but there always seemed to be a way out eventually. The loneliness didn't scare me as much. I took steps forward and faced things I was petrified of. I'm proud of myself for that. It didn't eradicate my problems. I'm not naive enough to believe that it would have or that it would've been a cure for anything but I knew if I got through it, in some respects I'd come out stronger.

So I'm back now. Back to a place I appreciated more when I was away from and on returning feel like I've taken a step back from the two forward I made when I was escaped. I suppose that's not abnormal. In fact I was expecting it, but there was a big part of me that hoped I'd be standing up a bit stronger than I am right now. But I need to remember that two steps forward and one back is still one ahead from before I went.
It's scary being back. The two parts of my brain are in a massive fight. One half wants to hide away and the other half wants to get out there as much as possible and see if I can transfer the confidence into life back at home. They're currently fighting with each other but so far the confident has pipped the scared side to the post more often. Not today I might add but I have kicked myself in the arse a little more than usual this past week.

It frustrates me that I had more control over the gloom when I was away from everything. I know that being around fresh and new things and people is going to make an obvious difference, but why should it make that much? I'm still the same guy here and there, with the same passions and personality. Or was I more myself when I was there? How much do I hold back around the familiar people and things in my life? How much do I hide the real me from those around me? I can't tell whether it's more or less than I think. Does that mean I'm not sure of who I really am? I'm sure of some aspects of myself and there's other parts I know are there and am afraid to unleash them for fear of rejection or in case I find something to not like about myself.

Going away was a big thing for me, but it has opened up a lot more questions about myself and how my emotions are controlled. It hasn't made me happier person necessarily but it's helped me gain a little more confidence in my abilities to step out of my comfort/anxiety zones.

I'm petrified of the future still but feel slightly better equipped now to start the long trek down that really hilly yellow brick road. I disappeared to one Emerald City, but I've got a long way to go to get to the next one.

Home isn't where your house is.

As sickly and as overused the phrase might be. Home really is where the heart is.

I've had to move back to the North East London town, where up until eight months ago I'd lived all my life (minus 6 months in Venezuela). I really don't know how I feel about it. I don't want to take a step backwards. Recent events and the position I've found myself in make me nervous that there's a possibility this might happen.

When I'm not here I appreciate it so much more, coming back to it is like meeting up with an old friend that you don't see often but when you do it's quality time. It's funny that now I'm living here again that it seems to have lost that. It's not home right now. I was somewhere different and new and was just getting used to it. Just starting to appreciate it. Just started to realise that it was home. I know deep down that the main reason for feeling that it was home wasn't the location. It's was where my heart was (and still is). In physical terms (and so therefore mentally too) it was fresh, new, exciting and most importantly, a step forward.

I'm the first to defend and first to bitch about my home town. There are FAR worse places to live, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to be stuck. In the past couple of years I've been more positive about the place than ever, but again that wasn't because of the physical place. It was what was in it and what I had.

I can learn from this though. It really is what you take out of and what you put into a place to make it home. My home here before was beautiful because of what was put into it, what was shared there. Now I'm back at my parents place in a room that used to be my safe haven, my own box where I could be me and escape from the world.  Now it's just somewhere I sleep. I know this isn't forever and I know I'm bloody lucky to have anywhere right now, but there certain things I need right now. Somewhere secure and positive.

My main man William Morris said "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful". This really doesn't apply to just decoration or physical objects (and my oh my do I have too many of those). A house can only be filled with beauty if you love being there and feel safe and make it your own. Without that a house can't be a home.

So that's my aim. To take the most from what I have and concentrate on where my heart is. It's in me and I just need to let it know that we've got some home hunting/creating to do.