A personal reflection about space, comfort, and home

Redecorating.

It’s fun in theory and planning. 

The process? Not so much. 

You might be asking what I mean, well simply– My room is gone. 

Not like gone-gone. Technically it’s still behind door number one. It’s just a bit… dismantled.

My walls are still there. The furniture still exists–probably. And with the help of my cats most of my belongings can still be located. 

But the room itself? 

Missing.

My room has always been a place I can just sit. A place where I could turn off my brain. 

Until now. 

Now, it’s haphazardly pieced together with a vision and painters tape. I can’t even sleep in there thanks to a mattress that has still not arrived. 

Funnily enough, it’s because of my want for a room that reflects the current me. 

The me that is older. More settled with her life–not completely in control but who understands what I need for peace. 

For months, I’ve thought about everything. From the colors to the decor. The vibe. I’ve googled and pinterested inspo pictures of the feel I wanted to have. 

I was excited. 

I may have overreached–at least in that awkward middle stage of waiting for everything to come together. The partial bedroom suite. Small wall decor and accent pieces. Things that really make a room, your room. 

I never realized how much I actually relied on my room–my space, until I didn’t have it to retreat to. 

When life gets too loud. 

When I need a moment to decompress. 

When I simply just need to be alone. 

My room became an oasis. A place where my brain could settle. 

“It’s a Strange feeling to be homesick for a room that still exists.”

Recently every time I come home, there’s a constant reminder that it’s not my room yet. 

A missing piece here. 

An empty wall there. 

Bedding folded in the corner waiting to have purpose. 

It’s a strange feeling to be homesick for a room that still exists.

The old room didn’t automatically become my oasis. It took time, slowly becoming mine through routines, memories, and moments that accumulated over time. 

This version will probably be no different. 

For now, I’ll keep sleeping on a couch, using the floor as a dresser, and reminding myself that sometimes the things we want most require a little mess and a lot of patience. 

More soon,

Quill