Have you ever misplaced your keys only to find them chilling in your pocket? Or spent a solid five minutes searching for your glasses, only to realize they were on your head the whole time? Well, folks, let me hit you with an even funnier realization: I spent a good chunk of my life searching far and wide, only to realize what I was looking for was… me.
Life, as it turns out, is a lot like one of those cryptic treasure hunts where the final clue is something annoyingly vague like, “You’ll find your goal where you least expect it, in a place you’ve never left.” At first, I thought this was referring to that one sock that’s been missing since 2005. But nope—turns out, the treasure I was searching for was much deeper.
Picture this: There I was, metaphorical bags packed, sprinting full speed on the treadmill of life. (Side note: why does no one tell you that no matter how fast you run on those things, you’re still in the same spot?) I was looking for validation in every corner of the Internet, trying to follow every “10 Steps to Becoming the Best Version of You” post from some influencer who probably doesn’t even follow their own advice. And let’s be real—Step 3 is always about buying something you don’t need.
Then, during one late-night doom-scrolling session (we’ve all been there), I stumbled upon a quote wedged between Aunt Karen’s cat memes and that guy from high school selling questionable pyramid scheme teas. It read: “Come home to yourself.”
Home? Myself? Was I supposed to book a stay on Airbnb? Was there an app for this kind of homecoming? Jokes aside, that little phrase hit me harder than I expected. Because I realized that home wasn’t just a place with four walls, a WiFi router that betrays you at the worst moments, and a fridge that’s mysteriously empty despite your last grocery run. Home was something I had been carrying all along but had somehow forgotten to acknowledge.
To “come home to myself” meant realizing that I wasn’t some half-baked project that needed fixing. It meant sitting in the cozy lounge of my soul, sipping on some self-love, and munching on self-acceptance. It meant embracing the good, the bad, the cringey dance moves, the embarrassing laugh, the late-night dreams, and even the early-morning regrets.
It meant understanding that my value wasn’t tied to likes, shares, promotions, or whether I could make an aesthetically pleasing unicorn latte. It was about being enough, exactly as I am.
So, my friend, if you ever find yourself feeling lost in the never-ending maze of life’s notifications and expectations, just remember—there’s a place you can check into without a reservation. A place where you are both the guest and the host, where the soundtrack is your heartbeat, and the decor is your dreams.
Come home to yourself. Because trust me, you’ve got some five-star reviews waiting for you there.
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