I’ve been trying to talk more about the idea of a house being alive in its own right, but what I’ve actually been thinking about lately is a house as a metaphor for the body. This is something more than one person has mentioned to me when I talk about my feelings about the house. I get territorial about who goes in the house the way I get territorial about who gets close to my body. I feel ashamed of problems or messes in the house the way I feel ashamed if something in my body doesn’t match what I think it should be (and this is not to say that body shame is okay, just that I’m still at a stage of development where I feel it a lot).
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