TreeHouseView

I have a mild aversion to the color blue and it’s because I wanted a Barbie pink bedroom–the kind of room so many little girls (and definitely some boys) dream of. The kind of room that existed in the Barbie Dream House and in my mind, but not in the mind of my mother. It seems she must have found the color pink distateful, as it was nowhere to be found n our house, in her wardrobe (or mine, and she sewed 97.3% of my clothes) and to my utter devastation, never in the decor of my bedroom.

I was not above begging and pleading for things that I wanted, and would throw myself on my mom’s nonexistent mercy on a daily basis, hoping she might have found an emotion resembling empathy somehow, but it never happened. So I Iived with a blue and yellow bedroom until I left for college.

I did manage to cajole my way temporarily into the basement room that was her Raggedy Ann inspired blue and red colored music room until I realized how absolutely unholy it was to live underneath the kitchen with people stomping across the linoleum all day. I was promptly back upstairs in my blue and yellow bedroom.

I loved my bedroom aside from the color scheme. I loved having a space of my own where I could shut the world out and escape into one of the countless books I had checked out from the library, or play with my Barbies for hours on end, or chat on the phone with friends as a teenager.

I felt safe and secure there. I would have loved to have been able to splash pink on every surface and to put push pins and nails in the walls for all the posters of the teen idols I worshipped but that was restricted as well. Scotch tape was all I was allowed, but it worked for the most important posters.

My little desk was full of my short stories and diary entries where I poured out my every wish, fantasy, and desire. I wish I’d kept those…there were probaly some real gems in those early scribbles.

I had a trundle bed that had a pretty princess-like wrought iron heaboard until I was somewhere in my teens and it was swapped for a full-size bed. The cover on the trundle bed was hand sewn by my mother, and was objectively a very pretty shade of navy blue. The material was a satin/sateen type that showed every snag, and I’m surprised I was allowed to have my precious cat Mindy anywhere near the material.

The closet was a standard closet–nothing like the walk-ins of today, but it did have a couple of very deep shelves on the right hand side that made it feel magical somehow. My Narnia-like closet was where you could find me until i was too big to comfortably fit in there–I liked small, dimly lit spaces where I wouldn’t be noticed or easily found, and where I could drift off into fantasyland.

My bedroom was absolutely my safe space. I’m a loner at heart and my room is where I liked to be, surrounded by the things that meant something to me. Things that I had collected, created, and curated.

Even if it left me feeling a tad blt blue…