Blog for October 6th, 2025
There’s no place like Home!
Boy, ain’t that the truth! You know- we can take that a couple of different ways, one way is that some of us were brought up in dysfunctional, abusive, chaotic families and there was no place like it! It was a scary and stressful place to be for sure. And hopefully we will never have to be there ever again. Because as recovering adults, we have choices.
In recovery we do face our past and through working the steps, we come to understand that our childhood was not our fault. In step three, we start the process of letting go of that past and start the healing process. But once we let go of that, we need to grab onto something new, something loving, kind and healing. For me, that is my Higher Power, He has been and still is my guide throughout my recovery, my life, learning to live life on life’s terms.
And that is not always easy, because if we grew up in such dysfunction, odds are, we did not learn good coping skills and how to love others in gentle and tender terms with compassion. Nor did we learn the ability to forgive and accept people for who they are. But by working a twelve-step program, and by surrendering our will and our life to the care of a Higher Power, we can now create our own space, make our home, no matter how humble or grand it may or may not be, it can be OUR safe space.
As I sit here writing this, I have my front door open because it’s a beautiful night, I do have a screened in porch, so critters and such can’t just walk in, but I enjoy fresh air very much. It is my home, and I am allowed to let air in when I want to. The open door
gives me a sense of freedom, a sense of belonging- in my hood, my community, the world. It brings me peace. Especially tonight, it is quiet out right now, other times, my neighbors’ kids are out playing, yelling and screaming, you know, like kids do, they are playing and I enjoy listening to them play out there. It reminds me of when my own kids were always out there playing, in the street. I miss those days.
Also, as I write I have put my TV on ambience, tonight, it’s a cabin with a light on inside and outside there is a small lake with the leaves changing colors to orange and yellow, the leaves are gently falling while some soft jazz is playing lulling them to the earth. There is a mesmerizing fire in the fire pit and pumpkins around the stone and decorative tile of the fire pit. I am drawn to the inviting lawn chairs that have pillows and a cozy blanket. It is a sweet, soft, enchanting evening staring at the fire, the lake, the leaves falling. Perfect. This is exactly where I would want to be. I can picture myself there all the time. And I must say that I love all kinds of music, different kinds for different moods but right now, this soft jazz is exactly right.
Meanwhile, back in my own reality, it is calm, serene and peaceful here. My husband is quietly working on his computer, I am here on mine, talking to the world at large, yet, being alone. I love it. The weather is cooling down a bit these days and the leaves really are falling. I am reminiscing on the wonderful weekend I had with my good friend and with my kids. I got to see my son and grandson and hung out with my longtime friend. We went to Las Vegas to go see the Wizard of Oz at the Sphere. It was absolutely wonderful. I loved it.
My daughter flew off to Nashville to hang out with her friends and go to the Grand Ol Opry. It makes me very happy to see my children enjoy life and living it to the best of their ability. And I know all of these things are great, but I must tell you, that before any of this “fun stuff” happened, life was not easy, not in the early days of recovery. It took a whole lot of work, surrender, acceptance, forgiving and letting crap go to get to this place. I was on welfare and could not afford to take them to McDonalds much less Vegas or anywhere else.
However, due to our poverty upon getting clean, (we were eight months behind in rent) we stayed in this house. We couldn’t
afford to do anything different in the early days and as the years rolled on and we caught up on rent and eventually bought this little hut in the hood, that’s what I call it, or I call it, “the house that Jim built”. Because my husband has added on over the years and made it a nice, comfy, cozy, sweet place to be. This is the only place he and I have ever lived together. Before I met him, and all through my growing up, we moved about three or four times a year. You’ve heard the song “Papa was a Rolling Stone” and it says, “wherever he laid his hat was his home”, that was us. I continued to live that way into adulthood in my addiction years, dragging my poor babies with me.
But now, by the grace of God and the twelve steps I’ve been living here for forty-four years. We have love, respect and God here in our home. We share our home with others who need a place to stay. Our house is a haven for our family, newcomers and friends who need to come vent and sort things out. We pray with them and love them as best we can, here in our house.
I have always said, especially upon my return from a trip or weekend outing that “it’s nice to go, but it’s even nicer to come home”. And sitting here with Jim now, chill’n, listening to the jazz and thinking about the beautiful and loving weekend I just had, I feel the blessings that God pours out to me, I can’t believe it. He is amazing. And for the umpteenth time I heard Dorothy say, “there’s no place like home”, I sat there thinking, boy oh boy, if that ain’t the truth, nothing is. I used to hear people say that “life is what you make it”, no doubt, but I also know that “home is what you make it”, now that it’s up to me. It didn’t come easy at first, I had to do a lot of “un-learning” old ideas and how I thought things are supposed to be, the things I was taught. But thanks to God, NA, and living and learning by staying clean and in recovery, I know I can make my little spot, my L’l hut in the hood, our own safe space. My ambience lights are on, my pumpkin spice candle is lit, and life is good. I’m not fancy, I’m comfortable, that’s all I ever wanted for my crib, my pad, my hut, because no matter what you call it, “there’s no place like home”, you know, that place that is where the heart is. 😊 I am reminded of that song by Crosby, Stills and Nash, “Our House is a Very Very Fine House.
Question of the Week: What does “there’s no place like home “mean to you?
