Voila

This is my bedroom.  It's the most sacred space in my house.  We've earned this title.

In the beginning of the crap house, the room  was simply used for storage.  For only the special and fragile things....These pictures are from an email I had sent to my daughter in Chile.  All I was able to write to her was, "Isn't it horrible?  I can't believe I've done this to us."  That room was a fragile yet still still special jumble, just like me.

Because I was a sad, terrified, depressed, overwhelmed shell of a woman, I painted everything - the walls, ceiling, and all of the woodwork of my bedroom the same bluish-greenish color.  I completed the look with the exact same shade for the carpet and for the bedspread.  I had become a monochromatic 1-D person.  I needed to feel safe and blah.

I started to feel just a little bit more than blah, so I replaced the barely worn carpet  with a rich dark brown hardwood.  So racey....  

But then, I  started feeling exhausted in that supposed-to-be-sacred space.  I must have been feeling brave because  I branched out and bought  an all white bedspread.  Very clean and very sterile.  Definitely more than blah, though.  Maybe I was feeling 2-D now???

It must have been a particularly lonely day when  I walked in the LOOMING ROOM and crashed on the bed.  I had seen just one scoop in the mattress.  Oh no!  It was so obvious that I was alone.  I was  feeling just a hair more than blah, but decided  the bedroom represented me too, which meant that we needed to pick up the pace a little.  This time, I went for a still- all- white, thickly quilted, grandmotherly-looking comforter.  Yep, I was really coming along.

Last week, I walked into the bedroom and screamed out loud. So loud. No more!  This room is BORING.  Boring me to tears.  Real tears.  I want both of us to be more!  Sitting in the mailbox that day was a catalogue from Anthropologie.  And Voila!  There was the comforter that was living up to it's name.  A comforter.  So, this is it.  This is US.