A Room of One's Own

I'm obsessed with the idea right now that we all need a space of our own. I suppose it has, mostly, to do with the fact that I have my own room for the first time in a long, long time. Like ten years. Or more, feasibly. There were roommates before there was husband, after all. Although I was one of those spoiled brats with a single room for a while. I love being a spoiled brat.

But I digress.

I've been thinking and planning my bedroom make-over for a couple of months now and have made very little progress. I know what I want, though and that's something.

The other day, Brynna and Maren got into a completely typical (around my house) fight and I told Brynna that when she needs to get away from Maren, she should go to her room.

"The living room is for all of us to share and I'm not going to kick Maren out of it so you can have space. You have space. It's called 'your room.'" (I was a might bit frustrated.)

"But I don't like my room," she responded. Since we just redid her room about a year and a half ago, this sort of floored me. And also broke my heart. I didn't have a sibling when I was Brynna's age, but I still needed a spot that was mine all mine.

Growing up, my room was pale pink. I didn't hate pink yet. It was large, but I was limited as to what I could do. I had wallpaper, so I couldn't paint. I also had a grandma who was a little crazy about wallpaper, so I couldn't have posters or tape or push pin anything to my walls at all. I had really nice furniture and although it was really nice, it didn't exactly scream little girl.

For all of that, it was still my space. I had my pictures on the wall and my bed had a fluffy white canopy. (You may feel free to pass out that I was ever that girly. What can I say, everyone has phases.) My bed was covered with pillows and stuffed animals and dolls and at the foot of my bed was a park bench.

I may have been stuck with my antique hooked rug, but there was never any doubt to whom that room belonged. I made it mine. It may not have been my dream room, but it was still all mine. I always felt at home there. In fact, after the nearly twenty years since I moved out of that room, there is still a certain comfort to be found in those pale pink walls.

That is what I want for Brynna. That sense of ownership, of peace and quiet and calm and belonging. When the world pushes against you, you need a space where you are completely free and yourself.

She and I are working on deciding what that means to her. What would make that space belong to her in a way that it doesn't right now. And I'm working on doing it to my space too.

Everyone needs a space that is only theirs. Where's yours?