I Am My Own Home

Hey hey Darlings ✨

Happy last week of the month.

And to all my Pisces babes — happy birthday ♓️💫

I had to double-check my calendar to make sure I wasn’t imagining it, but yes — we are already at the end of February.

For many of us, 2026 has not eased in gently. A lot has felt outside of our control. And even with everything going on, my intention has remained the same: stay aligned.

That doesn’t mean denying how my body feels.
It doesn’t mean bypassing reality.

If anything, it has meant listening more closely. Giving myself permission to regulate. To pause. To be present.

And as I’ve been doing that, I’ve noticed something.

My dreams have had a theme.

I keep a dream journal, and lately I’ve been dreaming about places — places I’ve been, places I’ve wanted to go, and places where my roots began.

Home.

Old streets. Restaurants that used to be there. Familiar corners that once held energy for me. I’ve even dreamed about other cities I once called home — at one point I used to joke that Las Vegas was my third home.

But the dreams haven’t felt nostalgic.

They’ve felt revealing.

In one dream, my cousin and I were driving around trying to find somewhere to eat. The restaurant she recommended was closed. I thought about the Asian restaurants near the university — gone. We kept driving.

Nothing.

And what struck me wasn’t the change.

It was my calm.

No urgency to fix it.
No scramble.
No emotional unraveling.

Just awareness.

I woke up realizing something simple.

Those places were once home.
I had roots there. Growth there. Laughter there.

But they are no longer containment for me.

Recently, my parents visited. As my mother looked around my small apartment, she asked if I still considered La Crosse home.

I told her no.

This is my home now.

It shocked her. It saddened her. I could see that.

But for me, it wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t rebellious.

It was clear.

Even during Christmas, when she asked if we could get rid of the Christmas tree I had bought her because it felt like a burden, I said yes. And I surprised myself with how easily the answer came.

No clinging.
No guilt.
No need to preserve nostalgia.

Just completion.

And there’s something else I’ve been reflecting on.

People often ask me who I’m traveling with. If I have travel plans, who am I going with?

Sometimes I answer: no one. I’m going by myself.

There’s usually a pause. A look of surprise.
“Oh… you are?”

In many cultures — especially strong community cultures — traveling alone is seen as lonely. Sad. Almost incomplete.

But I love traveling alone ✈️

I love navigating a new place on my own terms.
I love listening to my instincts.
I love discovering what I notice when no one else is filtering the moment.

And I realized recently why I can do that now.

I am not looking for a place to make me feel at home.

I carry it.

Now, does that mean I won’t ever miss family? Of course not.
Does it mean I won’t feel homesick? Absolutely not.
Does it mean there won’t be struggle? No.

It simply means I no longer let a location define me.

Home is not something external I must return to.

It lives inside of me now.

For many of us — especially women raised in strong family and community cultures — we were taught that home is where we’re supposed to stay tethered.

Home is where we return.
Home is where we’re needed.
Home is where our identity was first formed.

And when you begin to outgrow certain roles, or when you heal from spaces that were meant to keep you safe but no longer fit who you are becoming, it can feel disorienting.

You might ask yourself:

Is something wrong with me?
Why don’t I feel pulled back the way I used to?
Why does this feel final?

Nothing is wrong with you.

Growth can feel like distance.
Healing can feel like detachment.
Alignment can feel like solitude.

But none of those things mean you are broken, ungrateful, or disconnected.

There are seasons where home is external — where we need the structure, the proximity, the familiar.

And there are seasons where home becomes internal — where your authority, your alignment, your sense of self become your grounding.

That shift doesn’t mean you’ve rejected your past.

It means you’ve integrated it.

You stop outsourcing your grounding.
You stop explaining your evolution.
You stop managing emotions that aren’t yours.
You stop performing containment for everyone else.

And somewhere in that quiet shift, you realize:

You have yourself.

Home is no longer geography.

It’s alignment.
It’s self-trust.
It’s sovereignty.

You stop asking where you belong.

You begin operating from it.

If you’ve been feeling untethered lately…
If you’ve outgrown a space but haven’t named it yet…
If you’ve stopped explaining yourself and don’t know what that means…

Maybe you’re not lost.

Maybe you’re anchoring.

When you become your own home, you stop waiting to arrive.

I am my own home now.

And that is enough. 🤍

Until next time,

Empress darlings. ✨

No crowns.
No performance.
Just alignment.