When Home Doesn’t Feel Like Home. Hi, this is my first post. I want to… | by rookie | Aug, 2025

When Home Doesn’t Feel Like Home

Hi, this is my first post. I want to share the feelings of little Rookie, who has never truly felt at home since childhood, and hear if any part of this resonates with you.

I was born into a big family: my grandfather, grandmother, mother, sister, and younger brother, and we lived in a four-room house. Then my grandfather passed away, and my grandmother continued living with us. During this time, whenever my mother wanted to do anything for the house, my grandmother either didn’t allow it or constantly interfered; so, in a way, the house was never really ours.

I grew up and went to a different city for university, away from my family. I had my own room, my own bed, and my own belongings; for the first time, I felt really strange. After four years, when I came back to my family, not having my own space was so exhausting. Even though I used to wake up at 6 a.m. for sports, most of my things were in my mother’s room, so if I forgot anything, I couldn’t get it from there. I would prepare my things the night before and pray to God not to forget anything.

Eventually, I managed to create some order in the house; however, even the items I brought from my university room could only be stored in the attic, not inside the house…

Today, my uncle came from Istanbul, and they didn’t even ask if I could give my bed to them — they just used it. I’ve felt this sense of worthlessness since childhood. No one ever asked, “Will you give your bed to the guests?” They just took it, and I had to sleep on the floor. Yes, the same thing happened today.

After years, I finally shouted at my grandmother about this situation, telling her how everything she did made me feel worthless; I explained that I couldn’t even bring a single thing from my mother’s house and that she questioned everything my mother did. When my uncle came, I told them I didn’t want to give up my bed and disrupt my order. I shouted and cried.

I don’t want to see my grandmother, hear her, or even be aware of her presence. I don’t love her. But while crying, for the first time, my mother hugged me, and I felt valued for the first time. For the first time, I wasn’t alone while crying… My heart is so tired of never feeling like I belong, even in the house I was born in…