Confessions of a Homebody

The first time someone told me I was a homebody, I felt insulted – as though that label was synonymous with being called a dull, boring person. So...I got out there. I tried the party scene in college. I sat at sticky bar tables and waited for a "night out on the town" to become fun. But predictably, I'd always find myself standing in the middle of a club, dressed to the nines, wishing I was actually in my pajamas drawing in my sketchbook.

Confession: I love being at home (and yes, I suppose if you have to call me something, I am a homebody). There's really no place I'd rather be. Sure, I might get cabin fever once in a while. But for the most part, to the chagrin of my peers, I'm perfectly content curled up with a good book.

"Home" is not just about a specific location for me, but also a feeling I create for myself, made of the people and things that make me happy. If home really is where the heart is (as the saying goes), then I have abodes in many places.

Home is at the drawing table, tea in my favorite mug and sunlight filtering in. It's nestled into empty corners of the bookstore, or in the window seat at my local cafe. It's in the arms of the people I love, behind my camera, and at my computer, stylus in hand, working on my latest creation.

Despite my initial reaction, being a homebody hasn't turned out to be a bad thing. It's actually the opposite. It's helping me find my tribe – the people who understand me – and what I love and where I work best. So if you would rather choose a quiet night in over a wild night out, don't feel alone...it's okay if others don't quite get it. Stay authentic to yourself and the right people will come flowing into your life.

Do you consider yourself a homebody? What's your favorite indoor pastime? Contact me or leave a comment down below. Lets connect over a mutual love for hot drinks, cozy atmospheres, yarn, books, and pursuits of the creative variety!