When Home Isn’t Your Sanctuary
Often in the midst of depressions clutches I can’t stand to be out exposed and surrounded by people I’ll have to inevitably interact with either directly or indirectly. Sometimes simply being amongst people feels utterly unbearable regardless to whether I interact with them or not. Sometimes, if I’m out I feel a desperate need to get away and run home and hide under a blanket. But perversely home often makes me feel worse.
My home is not my sanctuary. I don’t really have one. This upsets me a great deal because I feel that’s what home is supposed to be, and of course that sense of what ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ be serves to make me feel worse generally. Home is a hole that I hide in. It has many comforts like blankets and cushions and central heating , tv and privacy and for those I am eternally grateful (creature comforts can not grant you happiness, they do make life easier however) but emotionally I regularly feel my lowest there
I suppose it could be because home comes with all the seriousness of real life. (Responsibilities. Bills. Chores. Tantrums. Households admin. Schools. Parent politics) Real life is terribly overwhelming and aggravating. Real Life is a permanent reminder as to my *perceived* failings and struggles.
Theres a lot of strong emotions tied up with home too. Positive ones of course but also negative ones (anybody who ever tries to deny this is an outright liar). With depression, those negative ones are hard to bare especially as within a family there’s great love involved too.
I do not have a place that feels entirely ‘safe’ (emotionally of course before that gets read into incorrectly!). Home often feels as much of a cage as my own mind does (see The Urge to Disappear).
I wonder to myself a lot; if home isn’t the sanctuary and safe space I desperately need then where on Earth is? Is such a place even possible given the state of my mental health?
Will update if I ever find out!