I love coming home. Who doesn’t? I absolutely love my family and I love spending time with them. They are the most important people in my life and home is the most important place.
Despite that importance though, there are a few things that bug me. When I point these out though, I don’t say that home or my family is to blame. These are simply my fallacies and faults and I plan to improve them. Until then, these are the reasons why I dislike coming home.
I am my worst self at home. I look in the mirror and see a person who ceased to exist sometime two years ago. Yet, as soon as I come home, that is the person I become. My energy goes to an absolute zero, if not negative. I cannot handle basic tasks such as making my tea. I wake up late and I sit at one place for the entire day. This does the following things to my body and psyche.
I Lose The Routine
When I’m alone in a city far away from home, I get up on time. I have a routine that I carefully crafted inculcating things and habits into my routine that was not part of it when I was growing up.
A basic example is keeping dental hygiene. My family, like any Indian middle-class family, does not floss or use any mouthwash. We brush, we wash our mouths with water. That was how my childhood went. However, when I was crafting my ideal adult life, something I had looked forward to throughout my adolescence, I put in dental hygiene as a priority. The result of which is simple, I brush, floss and use a mouthwash twice a day. I chose to keep my life that way and I can easily keep up it in my routine, my normalcy.
When I come home, my routine is intertwined with that of three or four other people who have entirely different values and routines as people. A hindrance in me trying to keep dental hygiene at home is the absence of mouthwash or floss first. So, I try and find a middle ground and just brush twice. But in that little sacrifice, I have lost an important part of my routine for three days, at least. Or I can get mouthwash, which is where the “there is no one else but me to blame” part comes in.
I Lose The Responsibility
Another part of being alone that I’ve come to realise is that you’re way more responsible. You know that for even a cup of coffee, there is a struggle involved. It could be getting up to make yourself a cup which takes time and well, the act of getting up. Maybe, you have to go out and get yourself a cup of coffee in which case time, effort and money are something you give in exchange. In any case, even a cup of coffee costs you. Literally.
When you’re at home though, a cup of coffee is an order away and that sucks because the availability of that option makes you choose it every single time. When you ask for a cup of coffee and do nothing to get it, you are surrendering control of your life, yourself.
I believe that one such act is irrelevant but a hundred different acts of pampering the child who has come home after a month or so totally brings out the child in anyone. Thereby, making them forget that they are, in fact, a functioning adult.
It Destroys My Diet
Haha. I know what you’re thinking. “This person eats shit food anyway, what diet does he have?” Well, yes. However, that is what I eat and there are certain rules to it. Such as eating when I’m hungry and not because it’s a meal. That is what works for me. However, that’s not how things work in a place where rules were set before you were born.
Also, if you’re Indian, you probably know the eating argument. If you’re not, trust me when I tell you, you either have to eat all of it or have a wild argument on why you won’t be eating. There is no in between.
It Kills My Workflow/Mojo
When I’m alone, I’m always thinking and doing. If not that, then I’m trying to do something. However, there is never an idle thought. When I’m at home, my thoughts mostly stop at the door. The whole activity stops. Maybe because weekends are supposed to feel lighter but then, you never want to step out of your zone once you’re in it. You’ll know it when you experience it.
At home, getting into the zone is the hardest thing in the world for me. I just cannot work or do anything worthwhile and if I can and do, then know that it took me at least twice the effort it would’ve had I been in my room in Noida.
When I’m home, I just don’t do anything. I barely code or carry on with my courses. It is an extremely hard chore to write. It’s even harder to start something else. Maybe, my brain somehow associates home with vacation and nothing else. Maybe.
As I type this, my dog is creating a ruckus with the neighbour’s dog, almost breaking the gate with his paws. My mom is trying to keep him in. I know I should help but this is such a routine task that I won’t even bother. Then my dad is on the phone with someone speaking not so softly. My brother is sitting beside me waiting for me to end this blog post and have a last thirty minutes of conversation before I leave. He’s also reading a magazine.
The above paragraph makes me sound like a prick, right? But this is normal. The funny normal. As I typed the previous sentence, I laughed. Not because of what is happening but because how chaotic yet absolutely beautiful my home and family are and despite all the above points in the post, I will obviously always love coming back home.
All I need to do is take better action against the above points. Baby steps.