Chapter 27: The Gap Between Who We Are Outside And Who We Are At Home

There is an uncomfortable truth many know and few admit.

The best version of most people is reserved for the world outside,

and the most worn version comes home.

Outside,

we make an effort.

We are patient.

We choose our words.

We count to ten.

We breathe before we react.

We smile even when we are tired.

We stay composed even when our nerves are scraped raw inside.

At home,

we let go.

We fall apart.

We grow tired.

And sometimes

we allow ourselves to become someone

we would never dare be in front of anyone else.

Not because we are evil,

but because home is the place where one is allowed to fall.

And sometimes

the place where one is allowed to fall

becomes the place where one falls onto

the person who loves them most.

A real scene from the life of couples.

Not dramatic.

Ordinary, and therefore exact.

He comes home from work.

At work they thanked him.

Outside they praised him.

People valued his effort.

He felt important.

Real.

Needed.

Alive.

At home

he is quiet.

Short.

Impatient.

He answers in half-words.

He cannot give the other even a little room to breathe.

She feels him disappear.

Not because he does not love,

but because he has no strength left

to be good twice in one day.

And she is hurt,

not because of some great disrespect,

but because of the gap.

Outside he was light.

At home he is shadow.

At the same time

she too is hiding something deep.

When someone from work asks for help,

she is always available.

She gives a kind word.

She gives advice.

She smiles a polite smile

even when her heart is heavy.

But when her own partner asks for a hug

or for a listening ear,

she says she has no head for it now.

Not because she does not want to,

but because she has already given her energy to others.

And so a mutual pain is born.

He feels he is last in the queue of her life.

She feels she is carrying more than she can hold.

And somewhere along the way,

two people who love each other

begin to take each other for granted.

Not from cruelty.

From weariness.

The central understanding of this chapter is plain.

We save our strength for the world outside

and assume the ones at home will always wait.

But the ones at home are the very people

who should not be left with what remains.

The person who loves us

should not receive the leftovers.

They should receive our presence.

The answer is not to change for the world,

but to bring a small part of our goodness back inside -

to the home,

to the relationship,

to the heart.

Written by Enoch Segal. Published by The Celestial Guide.