My Ideal Home

I’ve been thinking since yesterday about the prompt I mentioned I found in Day One: What would your ideal home look like? And since I have nothing else I want to write about right now, I thought I’d paint a word picture of my ideal home. Of course, this post is going to describe the physical look of the house. Like I said yesterday, home is where I can be myself and that cannot mostly be achieved with material things.

I’m going to design my ideal home as I want my living space to be. I’m assuming in this case that, if it will be a home where I live with my husband, he’ll get his own space. I am also not going to bother with practicalities such as having to clean a large space, since, well, this is just a dream.

First, my house would have a bottom floor and a top floor. It might have an attic too for storing random bits and stuff, but I haven’t decided on that one yet. In my husband’s and my real homes, both back in the tiny village and in Lobith, I could not/cannot reach the attic, after all.

The bottom floor would have a living room with two very comfy, large couches. In addition, there’d be a recliner. There’d be a living room table just about big enough for drinking tea. There’d of course be a TV.

The living room would be attached to the dining room, where there’d be a dining table. We’d have an open kitchen, so it’d be in the dining room really. That way, if my husband is cooking and I’m in the living room or diner, we can still talk.

The kitchen would of course have an oven, a microwave, a dishwasher and a stove. If I get my way (and yes, I do, as this is my blog!), it’ll be an induction stove.

Then on to the top floor. That floor would have three separate bedrooms for me: one bedroom which I’d share with my husband, one sensory room and a craft room. Oh, I’d also need an office, but that’s as simple as a desk and a chair so could be crammed in with one of the other rooms.

The sensory room would of course have a water bed with its own internal music system. It would also have an essential oil diffuser. Other than that, there’d be lots of soft toys, and my yoga mat and fitness ball.

The craft room would have enough room for a table to work on and a chair, as well as lots of storage shelves. It would have its own microwave, fridge and sink to clean my hands.

Lastly, there’d be a bathroom. That one would have a bathtub that could be filled enough with warm water to cover my entire body (my care facility’s bathtub can’t). There’d also be a separate shower for when I don’t feel like having a bath. There’d obviously be a washbasin to brush my teeth at. I don’t think I’d want a second toilet here. Now of course I forgot to put a first one at the bottom floor, but oh well, I’m not an actual architect, am I?

That’s it I think. What would you want to include in your ideal home?

Home Is Where…

Some say home is where my bed is. Then again, do they mean the care facility’s bed or my husband’s bed?

Others say home is where my toothbrush is. Then again, I take it with me wherever I go.

Dallas Moore would say home is where the highway is. My husband might’ve agreed when he was still a truck driver. Then again, neither his home in Lobith nor my care facility in Raalte is on a major highway.

I say home is where…
I can feel safe. I can feel comfortable. I can be myself.
That place, I’m not yet sure I’ve found.


This post was written for My Vivid Blog’s writing challenge: “Where”. I am also joining Writers’ Pantry #81. This post was inspired by today’s daily prompt in Day One, my diary app, which asks me to describe my ideal home. It was also inspired by this song.

Home Sweet Home

This week, Eugi’s weekly prompt is “Home sweet home”. I’ve never participated in this prompt before, but I thought I’d now.

Two weeks from now, I’ll be living in the care facility one year. It feels closer to home than any of the homes and facilities I’ve lived in before did. That feels weird. My parents’ house felt like home, but that’s just because I knew nothing else. My parents felt as safe as possible, but again that was because I knew nothing else.

Then I went into the training home. That was temporary, as you were supposed to live there for at most two years while training for independent living. That’s what I did eighteen months later. I cried my eyes out the first day, in front of my mother, who got angry with me.

It felt horrible to know that this was it forever. I mean, for at least the duration of my university studies, so four years, I’d live there. Then I’d live in a rented house on my own. It completely overwhelmed me.

As regular readers know, it didn’t last. Three months in, I landed in a mental crisis and was hospitalized. Though I stayed in the psych hospital for 9 1/2 years total and for over four years on one ward, it never felt like home. I knew it was temporary, after all.

And then I got kicked out. I lived with my husband in our rented house in the tiny village for 2 1/2 years. Even though I got by okay, it never felt good.

And now I’m here. I got that overwhelming feeling that this is it forever in the first weeks too, but this time, it was good.

I struggle to believe that this is not yet another temporary living arrangement or one in which I cannot cope. I act in and out a lot, probably to somehow “prove” that I’m not suited to this home. That I’m not suited to any home in the world. That there is no home sweet home for me.

Yet my staff so far say that I can stay here for the rest of my life. That, too, feels kind of overwhelming, but like I said, in a good way.

I also of course have my and my husband’s home in Lobith. That one still feels a bit odd to me. I never really lived in it, since we bought it two days after I moved into the care facility. In fact, I struggle to consider it my house too. When I write about it, I often write that it’s my husband’s house, then correct myself and add “and my”. I want to keep a connection to that house too, but it doesn’t feel like home.