I was sharing a room with my brother until I was 23. I never really had a room I could call my own before that, neither did I have a safe-space for myself when I wanted to be alone. I also never had the urge to decorate my room, because it kinda wasn’t my room, so why bother. As a result, my room was not really my room, but rather just a place I slept and sat at my computer.
In 2019 my mom moved to my dad to the US and I moved from the shared room with my brother to my mom’s old bedroom. Now I finally had my own room… or so I thought. It was technically my room, but all the furniture and decoration that belonged to my mom made it feel more like her room that I was using.
A semester abroad, a pandemic and two years later I finally furnished the room like I wanted it to be. I got a new bed and desk, moved everything around, removed part of the wardrobe and decorated one wall with my mementos and pictures of me and my friends. Today I finished the biggest part of the renovation.
It finally feels like my own room; my own little space that belongs to me and no one can tell me what to do or not. There is still a lot I want to do with the room: another carpet, sorting the wardrobe a little more and decorating the other wall over my bed. But still, I feel welcome here; I feel like I want to be here and I also finally feel at home.
My home.
Ash