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Where is home? As Friends Rust say it's "Where The Heart Aches"
I'm currently in therapy and through sessions, it's become apparent that even when asked, I don't really have a "safe place". No, not the kind of safe place that the ultra PC demand and the Republicans complain about but fucking cry they want when they feel attacked, but more in the place you can go to in your mind that you somehow, no matter where you are, you can find some peace.
My problem is, I don't think I've ever had one that wasn't a person. It was once my wife and after 4 plus years of emotional neglect, I no longer had a safe place with her. With my ex-partner, she very quickly became a rock for me and even though there was a literal time limit of her being on the same continent as me, I still put all my heart into that relationship which eventually hurt me, through no fault of hers.
I've moved 4 times since leaving my parents and to be honest, nowhere has ever felt like home since I left my parents, and even there now, it doesn't feel like home now because I haven't lived there for years and no of my possessions are there and there is no room for me.
It took a good ten minutes for me to even come up with any kind of idea, and even then, it's not one concrete idea, it's an amalgamation of the nights I used to spend on the dancefloors of several club nights that I lived for between the ages of 15 till around my late 20's. The Borderline in Tottenham Court Road that hosted Rockit, Normality and Vanity where I also saw New Found Glory, Incubus, One Minute Silence, Blink 182, Sick Of It All, Gallows. The Astoria 1 & 2 that hosted Rock Scene and Rock, where I saw Machine Head, Slayer, System Of A Down, Vision of Disorder, Biohazard, Cradle Of Filth, Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse, Bad Religion, NOFX, Snuff, Strung Out, Thrice, Misery Signals, Poison The Well and so many more. The Dome in Tufnell Park that hosted Madball downstairs. Le Scandale in Berwick Street that hosted Discipline, Sin on Tottenham Court Road that hosted Asylum. these were the places we went to and more, but all have either been knocked down or just don't do the same kind of clubs anymore.
To be really honest, I'm actually wishing I still could have those nights. The nights where I was first in the door and last out, and dancing to almost every single song.
This isn't being made any better by watching the 100 Days - An Almost World tour documentary of the UK band Architects while out touring their Daybreaker album. Their guitarist Tom Searle died recently after a three-year battle with cancer (FUCK CANCER) and he basically presented and narrated the vast majority of it.
I felt so alienated by anything and everything, apart from when I was on the dancefloor dancing to my favourite bands and songs. Whether it was "Dammit" by Blink 182, "Sellout" by Reel Big Fish, "Within The Walls Of Babylon" by Arkangel, "River Runs Red" by Life Of Agony or "Blistered" by Strife, I felt utterly at home "picking up change", "skanking" or "windmilling" (if you wanna know what these dance moves are, watch "Step Down" by Sick Of It All and it will all make sense.. and yes, we used to do these, including 15/20 people pile ons too).
To me, there is not much better than hearing your favourite songs, at ear-splitting volume, either in a club or live, because everything else, literally everything melts away. For the duration of a gig or a club back in the day, nothing else mattered but the music. Some used it to get stupidly drunk or high, I used it to dance out the anxiety of never fitting it, the frustration of being the long haired Metaller that no on cared about, that no one gave the time to, the one that was pushed around for standing out and not fitting into the shitty little cookie cutter molds of the over achievers or the sports mad kids that picked on anyone and everyone smaller than them or the ones who had any kind of want to not be one of the sheep.
I guess with the loss of most of London's decent music venues, so died my sanctuaries. Some venues still stand but the clubs that were frequented by all those young, friendly, bubbly and insane faces have all aged and moved on from the clubs, the music and each other to some extent.. but what happens to those that still have the music in their heart? Where is their home now? Where the fuck do they get to fucking vent their anger, their frustration at their lives, at society at everything that hasn't got a fucking face to scream into?
The feeling of never being at home, never having your own space that is 100% yours and can never be taken from you, is not only absolutely exhausting but scary. Your friends and "family" can only make you feel as at home as they can, unless you literally have something that can never be taken from you, you may never feel like you can actually rest, let go and be yourself.
The last time I can remember feeling safe, content and happy, apart from who I was with, was when I was on holiday with my wife in 2011-ish. I had just finished one job that was relocating outside of London and was waiting for training for another to start. We had booked ten days in a caravan in Cornwall and by the end of the ten days we were just so emotional and completely and utterly hesitant to go home, but we had no money and no place left to stay, we had to go home. We stopped to get my wife some food from McDonalds, I couldn't eat because we literally had no money left and we were in the car, just down the road from the campsite. My wife could tell there was something wrong and asked me if I was ok and I just completely broke.
I literally completely broke and cried as hard as I have ever cried, I didn't want to go back home to reality, I didn't want to go back to the London life, I didn't want to go back to the drama of home and other people's shit. I was totally inconsolable and I could think of nothing worse than returning to the one room in my wife's parents house where my marriage was going down the drain.
There was trouble between my wife and I for a while, but I think one turning point for the worst was while we were dog sitting our friends two dogs for about the fifth odd time around a year and a half later. We had been warned that Sadie the Blenheim King Charles Spaniel would try to eat anything human food wise, so to put everything away on the counter in the kitchen. I told my wife so many times to put these crisps away, but like so much, she didn't do as she was asked and just fucking left them there because she was far too fucking lazy to put them away.
As we hadn't been sleeping well with the dogs in the room, this was the first night we shut them out of the room we were sleeping in so we could sleep better. After only an hour, Toby, the other King Charles Spaniel, was barking non-stop, I go to check on them and I everything seemed ok, there was no movement out in the garden and I went back to bed. As soon as I got back into bed, he started barking again, but this time I noticed that Sadie was lying half way in and out of the curtains. I went over to check on her and she had her nose half in the bag and half out. My panic starts to grow, I tried to listen to her chest to see if I could hear her breathing or... just anything but the only fucking thing I could hear was my heart beat shooting through the roof and sounded like it had lodged in my ears. I tried to revive her but nothing. I called to my wife, but typically, she didn't fucking move, I then just got louder and louder until she decided she would get up to check what I was screaming about. She eventually came into to find my hyperventilating, cradling a motionless Sadie in my arms and just heading into more hysteria.
We called the vets which the dogs were registered at, which was over a half hour drive away... which neither of them drove, so it dumbfounded us that they were registered so far away, but off we go to the vets, to hear one the worst pieces of news I ever got.
Sadie was always the one that sat with me, enjoyed being roughed around, enjoyed playing but also enjoyed hugs and affection. Toby was more like my wife, quite, like attention when they wanted it and not before and such. Sadie was my little girl, I adored her and I know she loved me too, I definitely loved Toby too but there was something else between Sadie and I. I know this sounds insane, but unless you have ever owned a pet or been put in charge of them, you won't know the connection you can get from them.
Although we had our favourites, we adored both of these little ones and always said yes any time we were asked to dog sit for them. There was part of this where it was good to get away and have our own space, but it really came down to being around the beautiful dogs and their unconditional loves they gave both of us. The couple had a routine that anytime the doorbell went, they were to sit on this circular rug just before the long hallway that led to their front door. They were able to sit there and wait for any visitors that came to see them... Unless it was us. Their owners would try as hard as possible to stop them from running past them so they could greet us and it was the exact same every time we went there.... Until the aftermath of that awful day.
Toby and Sadie were a little escape for us both, but that died the day Sadie died and a little bit of me still.... Not hates, but whatever I feel, it's a pretty strong negative feeling for the neglect and irresponsibility my wife showed to the care and attention of what I considered my little girl. I've seen the wife in the couple only like five times since Sadie's death at the end of 2012 and I attribute this as one of the points where my wife and my relationship was broken beyond repair, among the others.
I wasn't expecting the Sadie incident to come out, but considering that little one was a little bit of home too that was cruelly taken from her owners and to be honest, me too, it hurt to have to let go of something that only knew how to love... and run up my chest to lick my face, I fucking miss that little girl.
I'd do anything to hold that silly fucker again.
I'm sorry this was an utter mish mash of topics, the bare bones of it (if you've managed to make it this far, congrats) is that I may have a roof over my head, but I've been homeless for a fair few years now, I wonder if I will ever find my safe place again, I hope so, I really fucking hope so.
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