I’ve begun to do the work necessary to disentangle myself from my Home. It may take some time, but the first step has been discarding a few things that have possessed me, things that have held my attention and emotions: Dad’s red leather chair, my Grandmother’s secretary, photos, an oak rocking chair.
Why do I choose sticks over carrots? Why am I compelled by the fear of consequences instead of rewards? Surely there’s more.