Destroying My Childhood Bedroom
When I moved back to my parents to start helping them, I had one condition — I needed a home office. After 4 months of going back and forth with my mom (the only one of my two parents who is still cognizant), I had been given the okay to use my brother's old room.
But it came with a price — I had to empty it out and over the span of 20+ years, it had become her storage area for shoes, clothes, and bags she insisted she keep even though she wasn't using them.
It took me about a week to clear it. Another week to clean it. Then I took a month bringing in my furniture from storage and arranging it to become my workspace. This took precedence over getting my bedroom in order because I knew I'd be working more than resting when I wasn't caregiving.
I had my home office for two and a half years when we found out my brother would also be moving back home — so now I had to cramp the remnants of my one bedroom apartment and my home (in their home) office into my childhood bedroom. A disaster.
My brother's been with us a year and I've arranged and rearranged my room, finding no contentment in where anything is.
The other day, I made it a point to finally get another piece of furniture out of storage — I was tired of placing things on top of old storage bins. This feat (literally one Kallax shelf from Ikea) took me 4 years to retrieve and I'm proud of myself for finally doing it.
