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A Very wise friend of mine just recently reminded me that there is a house and then there is a home. So what?! My house is my home, eh! Stop there...it is not that simple. House is actually a building, there is the roof and the walls and the floors and all the stuff in between. The house can be very humble or very fancy, it can be a townhouse or apartment or even a trailer. It can be located anywhere in the world, some are in the upscale neighborhoods and some in the slums, but most, however, are somewhere in between. No matter what kind of house it is or where it is located, no matter how expensive or run down the living quarters are, only one thing remains unchanged: There are people living inside, and it is those individuals that define the word home. Home is where you can be you, where the people you live with love and respect you, or where it is blissfully quiet if you happen to live alone. It is a place you can go to after a very long day and feel at peace, you don't have to worry about being hurt or yelled at, nor you have to worry about being criticised or laughed at. At home you can sit and enjoy wonderful conversations, happiness and peace of mind. You can let go of all the layers of defence and pretence you put on in the morning when you stepped out of the door. The question therefore is this: Is my house a home? Let me think... it definitely is a house, a bit run down, in need of repair and in a good neighbourhood. But is it a home? No, my house is most certainly not a home for me. The only time I relax there is when my husband is traveling. Then, for a little while, I am a real person; someone who matters. What really worries me most though is my children. It is completely unimaginable that my rundown, messy and lately ever so dirty and unhappy house is the only place they can call home. How did I, a previously perfectly fine individual, end up providing my children such a sad definition of a home. I don't know how I got here, but I certainly have decided that there must be a way out. Lets see then what can I do to change the situation. Have you ever heard of the saying "My house is my castle", or how about my version of it: "My house is my prison", at least that is how I feel most of the time. All my dreams of growing happily old in that house and making it beautiful are crushed. I have no choice but to find the strength and courage to move out. Since moving out won't happen overnight, it has made me realize something very important. More than being the prisoner inside the physical walls, I am a prisoner of my own mind. Until I can change my thinking patterns and also accept myself as I am, I will never find my way back to freedom where I can finally open the door to my beautiful new home. I don't know about you, but I know exactly what my future home will be like. Trust me on this one, if I visualize and believe in my dream sincerely without any doubt and work very hard on other aspects of my life, I shall have my dream come true. I will have a small house with big windows and private little back yard. My backyard will be my garden of bliss, full of well-tended flower beds and couple of trees, preferably maple and birch, under which I have one very old-fashioned swing. And birds, so that I can wake up in the morning and have my tea sitting on that swing peacefully rocking back and forth with beautiful sounds filling my ears. Afterwards I enter my kitchen where the gentle movement of white lace curtains catches my eye and reminds me to water the herbs that I am religiously trying to grow on my windowsill. The house is so simple and quiet that one can feel the harmony and the flow of positive energy everywhere. There is nothing fancy or expensive but everything is clean and well taken care of with love. The wood floors with old-fashioned Scandinavian rugs are very clean and make the house ever so inviting. After taking care of those herbs of mine, and neatly putting away my tea-cup, it is time to start the day. I walk happily to my bedroom: My bedroom is filled with light, just like the rest of the house and has the same wood floors than the other rooms have. I now own to my great delight a "makeup table", one of those small desks with big mirror and small drawers for makeup and everything else that I need to make myself look beautiful when I leave the house. The walls are decorated with pictures of the people I love and there in a corner I keep a basket of projects that I finally have time and confidence to do. My bed, of course, is big and very comfortable, but not too comfortable, I would not want to sleep away my newly found freedom because I already had missed out two decades of happiness in my previous life. This is my dream home, and if I get really lucky I will spend rest of my days there ever so happy with the man of my dreams. My essay seems to have reached its end. But before the final word, there is one more point to make. If you read carefully, you might have realized that some people live in castles completely miserable and yet others may live in very poor conditions but so happy. Money just can't buy happiness. It is us who make the difference. It does not matter if the dream home takes few years to come by, or that temporarily we might even end up with social housing, what matters is that we, the "homeless", take action to change our lives. My action, starting today, is to continue my D-book - yes, A...., that is really funny - which contains the lists of all my possessions I am planning to take with me when I finally move out of this house. I will also start living the life I will have, it does not matter that I am still in a difficult situation. I will start building my new life inside my old life and that alone is very meaningful way to make me stronger and more determined. I choose to start cleaning and making my current house organized and inviting, I am, after all, still living in it with my children. There is just no excuse for me to dwell on my own misery anymore. From now on, I will practice for my future life; so that when I finally open the door to my new home I know what to do and I know that everything from then on will be as it should. I also know that I won't be crying anymore because my dream home will be filled with laughter.
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My house or my home
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My House Or My Home

Words: 1224    Pages: 4    Paragraphs: 6    Sentences: 69    Read Time: 04:27
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              A Very wise friend of mine just recently reminded me that there is a house and then there is a home. So what? ! My house is my home, eh! Stop there. . . it is not that simple. House is actually a building, there is the roof and the walls and the floors and all the stuff in between. The house can be very humble or very fancy, it can be a townhouse or apartment or even a trailer. It can be located anywhere in the world, some are in the upscale neighborhoods and some in the slums, but most, however, are somewhere in between. No matter what kind of house it is or where it is located, no matter how expensive or run down the living quarters are, only one thing remains unchanged: There are people living inside, and it is those individuals that define the word home.
             
              Home is where you can be you, where the people you live with love and respect you, or where it is blissfully quiet if you happen to live alone. It is a place you can go to after a very long day and feel at peace, you don't have to worry about being hurt or yelled at, nor you have to worry about being criticised or laughed at. At home you can sit and enjoy wonderful conversations, happiness and peace of mind. You can let go of all the layers of defence and pretence you put on in the morning when you stepped out of the door.
             
              The question therefore is this: Is my house a home? Let me think. . . it definitely is a house, a bit run down, in need of repair and in a good neighbourhood. But is it a home? No, my house is most certainly not a home for me. The only time I relax there is when my husband is traveling. Then, for a little while, I am a real person; someone who matters. What really worries me most though is my children. It is completely unimaginable that my rundown, messy and lately ever so dirty and unhappy house is the only place they can call home. How did I, a previously perfectly fine individual, end up providing my children such a sad definition of a home. I don't know how I got here, but I certainly have decided that there must be a way out. Lets see then what can I do to change the situation.
             
              Have you ever heard of the saying "My house is my castle", or how about my version of it: "My house is my prison", at least that is how I feel most of the time. All my dreams of growing happily old in that house and making it beautiful are crushed. I have no choice but to find the strength and courage to move out. Since moving out won't happen overnight, it has made me realize something very important. More than being the prisoner inside the physical walls, I am a prisoner of my own mind. Until I can change my thinking patterns and also accept myself as I am, I will never find my way back to freedom where I can finally open the door to my beautiful new home.
             
              I don't know about you, but I know exactly what my future home will be like. Trust me on this one, if I visualize and believe in my dream sincerely without any doubt and work very hard on other aspects of my life, I shall have my dream come true. I will have a small house with big windows and private little back yard. My backyard will be my garden of bliss, full of well-tended flower beds and couple of trees, preferably maple and birch, under which I have one very old-fashioned swing. And birds, so that I can wake up in the morning and have my tea sitting on that swing peacefully rocking back and forth with beautiful sounds filling my ears. Afterwards I enter my kitchen where the gentle movement of white lace curtains catches my eye and reminds me to water the herbs that I am religiously trying to grow on my windowsill. The house is so simple and quiet that one can feel the harmony and the flow of positive energy everywhere. There is nothing fancy or expensive but everything is clean and well taken care of with love. The wood floors with old-fashioned Scandinavian rugs are very clean and make the house ever so inviting. After taking care of those herbs of mine, and neatly putting away my tea-cup, it is time to start the day. I walk happily to my bedroom: My bedroom is filled with light, just like the rest of the house and has the same wood floors than the other rooms have. I now own to my great delight a "makeup table", one of those small desks with big mirror and small drawers for makeup and everything else that I need to make myself look beautiful when I leave the house. The walls are decorated with pictures of the people I love and there in a corner I keep a basket of projects that I finally have time and confidence to do. My bed, of course, is big and very comfortable, but not too comfortable, I would not want to sleep away my newly found freedom because I already had missed out two decades of happiness in my previous life. This is my dream home, and if I get really lucky I will spend rest of my days there ever so happy with the man of my dreams.
             
              My essay seems to have reached its end. But before the final word, there is one more point to make. If you read carefully, you might have realized that some people live in castles completely miserable and yet others may live in very poor conditions but so happy. Money just can't buy happiness. It is us who make the difference. It does not matter if the dream home takes few years to come by, or that temporarily we might even end up with social housing, what matters is that we, the "homeless", take action to change our lives. My action, starting today, is to continue my D-book - yes, A. . . . , that is really funny - which contains the lists of all my possessions I am planning to take with me when I finally move out of this house. I will also start living the life I will have, it does not matter that I am still in a difficult situation. I will start building my new life inside my old life and that alone is very meaningful way to make me stronger and more determined. I choose to start cleaning and making my current house organized and inviting, I am, after all, still living in it with my children. There is just no excuse for me to dwell on my own misery anymore. From now on, I will practice for my future life; so that when I finally open the door to my new home I know what to do and I know that everything from then on will be as it should. I also know that I won't be crying anymore because my dream home will be filled with laughter.
My Home Essay 
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