Lessons on Having a Room of my Own

Lessons from Life: A to Z Blogging Challenge

Almost all of the years Richard and I spent together I worked either the evening shift or the night shift. 25 years on what is known as the 'graveyard shift' (although nurses don't like to call it that) and 5 years working 2 p.m. to 10 p.m. After my sons left home I began to entertain the idea of having a room of my own. We had transformed one of the boy's bedrooms into an office for Richard. Very masculine with a golf motif. He spent many hours in that room after he retired. It was his room. We had a big bedroom that we 'shared'. Well, sharing it would mean he slept there at night and I slept there in the daytime. And when we slept together we both admitted it wasn't very comfortable.

If you have spent anytime with a person who works the 'graveyard' shift you would know that even when we are not working we are generally not sleeping. We developed many different sleeping styles over our years together. He liked a quiet, dimly lit, room with the drapes open and the moon shining in. He liked the electric blanket turned on. He read for minutes before he fell asleep. He liked to set his alarm for 15 minutes before he needed to get up and then hit the snooze alarm 3 times. He turned the lights on when he got up and made a bit of noise in the attached bathroom. He liked to turn the radio on and listen to the news as he showered and shaved and took care of his ADL's.



If I was home from work and sleeping with him I liked the drapes closed. The windows cracked open. The fan on. Only a sheet. The TV on. Or a radio. I read. Often late into the night. I liked to eat and drink in bed. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to take that darn alarm clock and hit him up beside the head with it. I silently screamed at him to keep the lights off and shut the door. Probably I was just getting to sleep as he was getting up. He always told me that my reading, with the lamp on, didn't bother him. But I know it did. I could tell by the way he tossed and turned. We just didn't sleep well together.

So I began to dream about turning the other boy's bedroom into my bedroom. But first I had to convince Richard. I didn't want him to think it had anything to do with me loving him less. He wanted me next to him on my nights off. And I didn't mind that. Finally I convinced him that it had NOTHING to do with sex!! It had to do with us both having our own space. Sorry if this is too much info. It is what it is.



I turned the bedroom into the girly bedroom I had never had. I painted the walls in cool light green with deep, dark green trim. I bought a beautiful wrought iron day bed. I covered it with a flowery quilt, a ruffley bed skirt, and piles and piles of pillows. Most men, if being honest, hate all those pillows. I loved them. The room was full of pictures of my kids and my grandkids and pictures of Richard and me. I laid out all my mementos from our travels. Delicate vases and dishes. Richard made a desk for me that fit perfectly into the little nook in front of the window. I hung flowery sheers and pale green drapes. I had a beautiful delicate wicker chair. I bought myself a TV. And I OWNED the remote. I placed some of my prized dolls throughout the room. Above my bed hung my favorite picture of the beach.

look really close and see Harley's reflection

When the grandkids would stay over, we slid out the trundle bed and they got to sleep with granny. Often we would make up stories about granny's chair on the beach. And we dreamed of the day I could take them there. Darian was always so worried about me leaving my scarf. He was sure it wouldn't be there when we went there to get it. Oh, the memories.

Sadly, I gave my room up to Harley when the kids came to live with us. I packed away the dolls, the pictures, the mementos of vacations past and turned the room into hers. And Richard gave up his office to Darain.

But I had many, many enjoyable hours reading, watching TV, sleeping, napping. Listening to music. Writing in my journals. In My OWN Room. I think every woman, everywhere, should have a room of her own.

I will again...now that Richard is gone. I just have not yet made our room into my room. That day will come.

Do you have a room of your own? Maybe not a bedroom, but a craft room. Or a reading nook. Or a place that is just for you. Do you think that is important?