This post was sitting in drafts but most of it was copied over and published as, ‘Believer’. Here’s a snippet of what’s left.

I’m sitting smack in the middle of my daughter’s old room while writing this. Mainly because it’s the coolest room in the house this time of day. In the late afternoon, the sun is at the front of the house and our bedrooms sit at the back. I’m not sure what this room will become, but have given myself until the end of the year to see what it wants to be. Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we stop being who we were made to be.

Written 8/20/2023

I worked on my daughter’s old room most of Friday afternoon and all of her leftover things are neatly stacked on one wall. The rest of the room is open and spacious, but I’m not anxious to fill the empty space. It houses a couple of plants that were no longer happy outside and of course, the little built-in desk still holds the vintage typewriter that you can see in Believer. This room is made for writing, and it’s time as a bedroom had passed, so the room evolves along with me.

It wasn’t until I left my marriage that I felt the freedom to write, even though I had stacks of journals with pages filled by the writer who couldn’t keep quiet. My then husband was comfortable seeing me journaling at the end of the day, but every time he walked into a room where I was sitting, I was expected to be working on a task with a profitable outcome. It never crossed my mind to tell him, “I’m writing”, as if that would be acceptable, so my writer remained hidden and gagged.

It’s taken time to embrace living in solitude and to give myself permission to ‘use every room’ of this house, without any guilt about it. This little house was perfect for my daughter and I to share, but I’ve struggled making it mine alone.

My writing has evolved from an outlet to a welcoming of who I am. It’s taken years, but now the writer has a room of her own. Four walls, a vintage typewriter, waste paper basket, a stack of drafts marked up in the evening, natural light from double windows and notes attached to one wall with thumbtacks. This is what happened when I decided to do something good for the writer in me and use every room.

I’d love to hear if you use every room!

For recent writings you can find me here.