I may have stumbled upon one of the new perspectives that my Self Care Saturday spread from earlier this week was referring to while I was in the shower last evening.
Sometimes in my mind I gripe about the shit I don’t like… as I’m sure most people do. You know… not the people per se, but like the soft water in this house that has a weird taste and makes it fucking impossible to rinse all the conditioner out of my hair.
And then my mind kind of wandered on to thinking about my shower at home, which has much harder water and you come out of it feeling much cleaner. And in the middle of this thought, I had a memory of when my aunt and cousin came to visit MY home for a while and how she had complained about my water being too hard.
And that got me to thinking…
Would I rather have her (or them) visiting my home?
Or would I rather be a guest in her home?
Her home. Hands down, 100% completely her home. That’s the answer. I don’t like them in my home. I don’t like any of them in my home. I don’t like them touching my stuff, putting ass prints on my furniture in odd places, or mingling their scents into the familiar scent of my home. I don’t like their energy mucking up my space, their dirty dishes, or their constant disturbances, or the need to feed them or entertain them. I hate it. All of it. I really do.
If coming here now and again keeps them from coming to my house? It’s worth the discomfort. Absolute, completely worth every little shred of the discomfort of being here.
And that is an entirely new perspective on visiting family that I hadn’t thought of before. So there you go… there really is gold at the end of the rainbow, you just have to dig in the mud to find it.