My bedroom has become my escape, my sanctuary, my necessary respite from the hustle and bustle of a big family, including four kids and four rescue dogs.
When I’m in my room, and the door is closed, my family knows there are very few reasons why they would be allowed to disturb me.
Now, before you say, you chose this life, I want to acknowledge that I absolutely adore my family, including our little furry friends. However, like many families, our home can be noisy, busy, and at times, downright chaotic.
I deserve a break, and I refuse to feel bad about that.
My diagnosis changed me
I was never one to slip off to my room until I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Even as a type 1 diabetic, I would manage my highs and lows in the kitchen or living room, riding out the symptoms, no matter what was going on around me.
When breast cancer chose me, and I had a mastectomy, the six-week recovery meant that often, I would be laid up in my room, sipping water, napping, or watching a show. My chest incisions were fragile for weeks, and I still had young kids. I had to keep my surgical site protected.
This is when I broke my own “no TVs in the bedrooms” rule. My arms were useless during my recovery, so I couldn’t hit up my usual go-to for entertainment, reading books. Instead, I binged multiple shows. At first, I hated being holed up in my room. I could hear my kids crying or laughing, and the dryer and dishwasher humming. Real life was happening out there, while I was stuck in my room.
My room stayed my retreat
As I recovered and stepped back into our hectic family life, I realized that my room was the only space that was just mine. My cozy (white) bedding, my completely sun-blocking curtains, minimal decor and clutter, and lamps that cast soft light across the room in the evenings when it was usually quiet — were all things that made me feel at peace. I learned that this was a space that my mind and body needed 8 years ago. Today, I still retreat to my room as often as I need.
Courtesy of Rachel Garlinghouse.
Don’t come knocking
My four kids, three of whom are teens now, know that if I am in my room with the door shut, the answer to any of their questions or requests is to go talk to their dad. I am unavailable, checked out, and relaxing.
As a mom and oldest daughter, I was conditioned to believe that I had to earn rest. To this day, I sometimes feel a wave of guilt for retreating to my room, taking a hot shower, and curling up in my bed with one of our rescues and a new book. The nagging voice in my head says that I should be doing something else, something more productive, something better, something expected. Yet I clap back to myself: Expected by whom?
I am trying to flip the script on the idea that I should be readily available and on guard at all times to meet the demands of my family and pets. Who decided that women are the default, the manager, the life coach, and the planner for the entire family, whether that be just one kiddo or multiple?
This is my simple indulgence
I have never been one to enjoy massages, pedicures, or one-day girls’ trips. I don’t think self-care isn’t something that should be squeezed in once a quarter as a reward for white-knuckling motherhood. Instead, I have chosen a regular retreat to my own bedroom.
Is this an escape? Sometimes, yes. When I’m overwhelmed, under the weather, or overstimulated from a full day of go-go-go, I need time to escape. I juggle so many roles, all of which demand a lot of my time and energy, and by acknowledging this, I choose to honor it by understanding and practicing the art of padding to my room, shutting the door, and letting out the sigh I’ve been holding in all day.
I am in my forties now, and I have unlearned so much that never served me or my family. I have embraced that a room retreat is modeling for my kids that, as they grow up, nurturing themselves and meeting their own needs is absolutely essential to staying mentally, physically, and emotionally healthy. It’s one thing to tell them this, and I hope it’s entirely more effective to regularly model it.
