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We all need a little space of our own.
As a kid, I had a playroom in our basement that was attached to my parents’ home office.
They could keep an eye on me while I played with my dollhouse, pretended to check out groceries with my play grocery store and cook them in my play kitchen (shocker, I ended up becoming the foodie I am…), and while I “zoooooomed” Hot Wheel cars across the tiled basement floor into the carwash toy handed down to me from my oldest brother.
But that space wasn’t “mine.” It was part of the family room. I was keenly aware that I could be heard and seen. Did this stop me? Not one bit. But that awareness was always there, in the background.
I was thinking about this recently because I returned home late last year and am resettling into life with my family. There have been some growing pains, a few bumps in the road—shall we say? But what made it easier to slide back in was carving out space for myself. Now, as a writer, I felt the need to have a space for both my words and myself.
My things were still in boxes when I asked if I could move my desk into our living room…I had ideas.
See, when I was that little kid, “my space” was actually upstairs.
My mom made my room a small little sanctuary of my own with granny smith apple-colored walls, butterflies and flowers, and hand-painted shelves to match. And while I was playing, my closet was where my imagination felt the safest.
We decked it out to be an entire living space for my Molly American Girl Doll. I lived in my room, and she lived in the apartment in my closet. She had a handmade walk-in closet we made from a thrift store shelf, a living room, bedroom, and office. And, when she wasn’t using it, my paper dolls took over.
I felt safe and cozy in that space. It was mine.
I’ve lived in a few homes and apartments since then. Some were shared, some I was a long-term guest. And each reminded me that as humans, we all need a little space to call our own.
We need a place for our body and our mind to feel safe, to feel free, and to feel at ease. We can better meet the needs of our nervous system when we’re in a place of safety. Those spaces where our jaws loosen from the tension we’ve been carrying all day, and where our shoulders drop, and where we look around us and see things that make us feel whole, or that make us smile with a memory.
Now that I’ve returned home, my room is once again my sanctuary, though it’s not my only space. As a writer, I felt the need to have a space for my words and myself, both.
Sure, I can write anywhere. Thanks, technology.
However, it’s grounding to have a space for my things that help me remember who I am and what I’m doing. The things that make my writer-brain “turn on” and that make me feel most myself. My desk is now in a corner of our living room and you can tell it’s a space all its own. It might be steps away from the couch and the TV, but there is a clear separation.
I have plants—galore. I have things I’ve picked up on walks like stones and sticks, shells, and items gifted to me like a beautiful elephant carving and a small buddha statuette. My favorite lamp was moved to this space. I keep a small vase of flowers there as often as I can, and the books, oh the books are ever-present.
I have Pema, and The Elements of Style, and Andrea Gibson, and Writing Down the Bones, and my grandfather’s dictionary from 1934, and books with quotes, and books with writing prompts, and journals—which I really should do better about using, rather than just dusting.
But my point is—this is a space where my writing brain feels safe, like that smaller version of myself felt safe playing in her closet.
Sure, my fellow writers, we can write anywhere. But I’d like to suggest that some of our best writing comes from writing from a place where the words flow freely because we’re in a place of safety, and familiarity.
And that might be one of the best lessons I’ve learned since moving home, along with the realization that my old play kitchen really, really did have an impact on me. And the family is benefiting. (wink, wink.)
~
author: Molly Murphy
Image: @julieetozzy/Instagram
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