There’s simply no place like home. What if the biggest component of finding, building, and making a home is not so much about the building itself, but with the people living within? Coming home says more about us and the person we became while abroad than it says about the place we call home. Home, an often-static environment, is the best rubric to gauge exactly how we’ve changed and grown as people. 

The reason you can never cross the same river twice, as the parable says, is because the water you passed over has long since flowed downstream. In the same way, the riverbeds of our homes may remain, but the inhabitants (ourselves) return as different people. I have experienced my fair share of transitions this year: I moved homes, changed cars three times, gained and lost relationships, switched careers, and physically traveled more than I’ve stayed put in one place. Yet, the greatest transition in my life this year has come from within. 

Only when I returned home from my latest road trip did I discover how much I had changed; this time, I noticed the transitions actively take place in my soul in real time. Home felt different because I felt different—my home stood there to show me the contrast and reflect the  people living within. I suppose this is why we scramble to tidy things before guests come over, why we don’t want things looking disheveled or “lived in”: we instinctively know our homes stand as reflections of ourselves. 

Coming home and being at home are really an inner work – I won’t feel at home anywhere if I’m not first settled in who I am. In our culture, with our easy and accessible distractions—whether through social media, workaholism, or material escapism—it is easy and acceptable for us to distract ourselves from  unpleasant soul searching and processing negative emotions. Unfortunately, this bites us in the butt; the extent to which we ignore those nagging, hollow sensations in our chests and the pits in our stomachs is the extent we remain shallow, stagnant, and ill at ease in our own bodies. 

I recently experienced a drastic career shift from working in the mortgage industry to working in photography full-time. The mortgage job was stable, steady, predictable, and brought in a steady paycheck each week. I enjoyed the work for the most part, and the job gave me more flexibility than most office jobs could, but it killed my soul slowly. I was not passionate about the mortgage industry and it weighed on me over time. 

My true love lay in photography, but that field is much more unsteady and unpredictable;  let that fear hold me back from pursuing it as a career, and I kept it as a side hobby. Through a force of circumstance, my employers at my office job let me go, but I felt more relief and peace over losing my job than I ever had while working there.  I suddenly felt free, and decided panicking and diving back into another job from sheer necessity would be the worst decision I could make.

I traveled for three months, visited family and friends, worked in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and road tripped across the states. I allowed myself time and space to process what happened, as well as tap into what I truly loved and what drove me. I considered who I was at my core: what made me laugh or inspired me? What sort of work could I do with a smile on my face and a song in my heart? What fed me and got me excited about life? How could I best love and serve people? 

During my three months of wandering, a huge shift took place in my soul as I started doing what I love most. I spent quality time with people I hadn’t seen in years, took photos of the beautiful West Coast, hiked mountains I’d never climbed before, slept under new skies, and spent time being present with myself and the world around me. I took my own pulse, and after turning down two other unexciting job offers, I realized I had to pursue what I loved. 

This was the birth of Wild West Elopements, a niche branch of my photography company, Seeking Sun, which would combine my love for travel and adventure with my love for photography and capturing stories. I had been to so many places throughout my travels that I now knew exactly where I could take people and what I could recommend to them for a honeymoon trip afterwards. I would never have discovered this if I hadn’t first discovered myself and what I loved during my travels. 

 I changed on that trip because, by going away, I came home to myself. I faced my fears and drove them out with a love so great it overshadowed my fears, minimized the risks, and opened myself up to the most glorious adventure. I had to face myself and accept what I loved to be truly free and at home. Coming home has been different this time; I feel at rest, busy, and happy all at once. I don’t confine myself to the boxes I used to create in the name of safety and predictability. Is it difficult? Yes. I still feel terrified, but it is easier to let that fear go because I’m building a life I truly love, finally at home within my own skin. 

I made my elopement business all about the things I love most: the great American West, freedom, adventure, and lovers committing to one another in wild places. Coming home, I feel like I’ve also come home to myself: I find myself wearing what I want, decorating the way I like, cooking what I love, spending time with people I cherish, speaking up when I care for someone, speaking my mind when asked, and so much more. 

When friends come over, they notice the difference; they comment on my joy and are happy to see me happy. I, in turn, get to better serve them and focus on their hopes, dreams, and needs. I have more responsibility on my plate now, but I’m less stressed. I have more to do, but I get to choose when I do it, so it still feels like freedom. Life feels more beautiful because I have transitioned to a version of myself that is passionate, kind, inspired, and at peace. 

The true journey home we all must take, if we are ever to feel at home in our own skin, in our homes and with our loved ones, is the journey to ourselves. This isn’t about being true to yourself in the sense of stomping on anyone or thing that might get between you and what you want – that is simply selfishness dressed up as healthy boundaries. No, this is deeper, richer, and more profound. What I’m referring to is being true to what you love, what you like, who you want to be, and being that person without fear of failure or rejection. 

The journey isn’t about stomping around and expecting others to bow to your desires and needs,  or agree with and like what you like. No, this is richer. This is offering the healthiest version of yourself to your community in faith that you can enrich their lives as much as they have enriched yours. This is contributing to the world at your point of passion, operating from a mentality of abundance rather than a mentality of never doing enough. There’s no more striving under the influence of fear in this lifestyle; this is freedom guarded by knowing who you truly are. 

During this period of travel, I embarked upon a personal journey through a program called “self-authoring” by Jordan Petersen, a renowned psychologist. I knew if I were to come home to myself, I would have to truly know myself first, no matter how hard that may be, and let me tell you – it was HARD! The program walks you through your past and gets you to write out your core memories into chapters of your life. You write about whatever events in your life have been most impactful.  By doing so, you retell and reclaim the stories of your life. 

This sounds much simpler than it is—I had to sort through my most impactful memories, and then actually write about them. But, through this often-cumbersome process, I gained an insight into the memories and values which shaped me and learned to tell my own story clearly and concisely. It has been invaluable in helping me understand how I’ve been shaped by life and healing from traumas I didn’t realize were holding me back. 

Coming home starts with understanding your own story: Who are you? What has shaped you, strengthened you, or challenged you? What hurdles stand in your way of becoming your most healed and whole self? What assets do you have that you can share with a world in need of your light and strength? How have you been wounded, and how does it shape your path to healing?

 Have you healed from these wounds, processed them and transformed your pain into power? How have you been loved? Do you draw from this love and lavish it on others? This is how we come home, how we ground ourselves, and how we can create a home for others to dwell in alongside us. I hope your homecoming is as freeing as mine was. Let your light shine!