“Give her a room of her own and five hundred a year, let her speak her mind and leave out half that she now puts in, and she will write a better book one of these days” Virginia Woolf.

I used to think that temporariness would bring me the sense of freedom I so desired. A futon and an Ikea clothes rack and a 6 month lease somewhere in the inner North. Different addresses, different housemates and definitely no pets. Although I loved (many of) my housemates, there was the uncertainty of who’d be home and when, if those leftovers would still be in the fridge and how much the electricity bill would be this time round (can’t you buy a blanket rather than crack the heating up to 11-I’ve been on both sides of this one). My heart would leap when I came home and saw the light wasn’t on so I could have the place all to myself. Hurrah!

Eventually pennies were saved and a cat was gifted (my beloved Bella) and the home loan guy didn’t laugh at me (he actually seemed eager?) and I began the Aussie dream hunt for home ownership. I considered moving ‘out a bit’ for more square-footage bang for my buck but I felt fearful at the thought of having soy lattes and smashed avo more than a stone’s throw away after a childhood spent in suburbia (and on buses) so I got clear about what I wanted. A courtyard, a bath, proximity to public transport and cafes, one bedroom would do, the vibe of the thing. The universe manifested my little piece of paradise and I won the bidding war at the auction. It was actually quite fun to do though it didn’t feel real until I shakily signed on the dotted line.

I love my place (in the smashed avo heartland) and it felt good to get proper furniture that fits and the ability to put in a picture hook when needed and keep a cat (the landlady approves). My home has been an anchor for me which has led to a feeling of stability and security and therefore inner peace. I resisted this for so long and I now realise it gives me the freedom that the temporariness never did. I also worried that it would make me feel stuck but now I know I can vacate and charge extortionate rent or go on an extended break and turn it into an air B and B for the soy latte crowd. So many things that I previously resisted, thinking they’d reduce my freedom, have brought me the most joy; home and pet ownership, sobriety and a schedule. Who knew?

As an introvert, I love having this quiet place to retreat to and perhaps I will write a better book (or blog) one of these days. What are you resisting friend? Perhaps there’s a hidden joy in surrendering to it.

Love and light and to the lighthouse XXX Yvette