Here’s something you may not know about me unless you live with me and put up with my antics. I get stressed out easily. Some days I feel barraged by requests from the world. Sometimes people are needy and sometimes I just feel put upon for no real reason. I accept that.
I’ve always felt that way. I take things hard and to heart. I guess I’m a feeler. (Or maybe have some unresolved martyr complex?) Though, as I grew up, I became very adept at shoving those feelings down, down, down. And every so often, I’d sort of, implode, for lack of a better word, under the pressure. I’d feel nothing, nothing nothing, and them-WHAM! Fountain of emotions.
I’ve since learned to deal with feelings as they happen. To do that, I require a lot of space and quiet.
That’s why it’s important for me to come home to someplace awesome. Underneath the clutter (you know, the usual signs of family life—textbooks, random socks, musical instruments, dishes), my house is carefully arranged to suit me and my family.
There are creature comforts.
Signs of nature.
Quiet spaces filled with books.
Messy, fun spaces to create.
And just the right amount of funky (maybe too funky for my fellows, but not for me).
Is your home your haven? Where do you go to recoup? What do you do?