The story of nesting

I think nesting is in our genes. We, as women, are genetically inclined to nest. To create a nice, cozy home where we can fuss around with our family and friends. There is something incredibly relaxing about returning home and putting your feet up on your couch. It is extremely fulfilling to whip up meals for your near and dear amidst friendly banter. And it is contentment you feel as you relax in your favorite spot with a book in hand or sit in your balcony with a cup of tea or a drink in hand.
The mere fact that I feel all the above makes me feel that I am indeed a woman. I like all the above things. I like my space to be all the above. And that’s when it becomes home for me. And home is the most comfortable place for me.

It is one of the primal needs for a human, according to me. Food, Sex and Home are the most important things that drive many of our behaviors and it’s the way its evolution intended it to be. Good so far.

It’s the rest of the stuff that comes with nesting that I don’t get.

A wise man once told me that settling down is for rocks. As I listened to him utter those words and shrug nonchalantly is when I realized that he spoke my mind, something that I had never realized I actually felt. Settling down feels scary. Settling down reminds me that I am committed. Settling down means I have a chance to become complacent. Settling down might mean I might not push my boundaries. Settling down , or rather the fear of settling down has been a very important fear/emotion/feeling for major part of my adulthood, driving most of my decisions. As much as I like home , calm and peace, I have never been able to imagine myself settling down. Anywhere. I’ve always been the person who enjoys the moment as it is and keeps reminding herself that this is not permanent and that I shouldn’t fall in love or be afraid of the moment. At least, I try. And oh yes, I married the wise man. That’s the only kind of long term commitment I’ve allowed myself to get into, getting married, that is.

Accumulating stuff. Now this is something related to settling down for me. Makes me feel like I am committed to something. Something I might not be able to change. A fear of loving all these material possessions. And having to move with it all. What would I do if it doesn’t fit the back of my car? From the 22yr old who carried all her possessions in two duffel bags and moved to a strange new city to the 25 yr old who had to pack all her possessions in a suitcase to move to her marital home to the 30 yr old who gave away all her favorite books to move to her ‘dream’ house to the 33 yr old who wanted to shake up that dream , the goal had been to not accumulate stuff - Stuff that I don’t need to function in my daily life, with all its luxury. Stuff that has no utility value and exists only for aesthetics, or the stuff that I love so much that I shudder to imagine existence without it, or stuff that I am scared others will damage.

Picture Courtesy : Link

The fear had always been that I’d be tied down to the stuff and I wouldn’t be able to move ahead. Where ahead, I don’t know myself. Don’t ask me. Now, this is the fear that’s been driving most of my life decisions.

From the person who never wanted to even buy a dining table because it felt ‘sooo married’ , I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff, thankfully, all of it dispensable. And that is going to be the goal, at least till I find the next thing that I fear the most! Or value the most. Whichever way you look at it!

Now, don’t ask me how many clothes or bags or shoes I have. That’s for looking good. That’s for myself. Not for the world! :)


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