Whether we care to admit it or not, our homes are accurate
barometers that reflect, through our surroundings, where we have been, what is
going on in our lives, and who we are – today, this moment – although it is not
an exact indication of where we may be heading.
For some people this may not be the most reassuring thought
I could put forth. Nevertheless, it is
true and I have learned the reality of that truth particularly over this past
year but accumulatively over the last 41.
Elsie de Wolfe who wrote “The House in Good Taste” back in 1913 that
some said transformed the way America decorated for over half a century, said “You
will express yourself in your house whether you want to or not.”
Hmmm, seems a true euphemism… I know that
when I first married, and for 22 years thereafter, I decorated for my beloved
husband who liked the country/hunting look.
So my walls were adorned with photos of pheasants and deer and shot guns
etc. I did, however always manage to
throw homemade crocheted items, quilts, lace etc around the rooms to put a
little of myself in there.
When he passed away, and I bought a home with two friends
while I helped my daughter battle a nasty custody battle, I decorated in a dark
Victorian style. Not so much because I
actually liked it but because I was angry that Doug had left me and he hated
the Victorian so. Again, I took the
bedroom that was my refuge in that home and layered it in white linens, lace
curtains and books and brought light into my darkened world.
When bills over powered my resources, and I moved into a
small apartment with my daughter and granddaughter, we took as much of the
furniture with us that we could and then I allowed my daughter to choose the
dining table and eventually her and her daughter’s bedroom décor etc… colors
went from burgundy and white to purples and blues (except in the living room
where I also slept). We were happy there but
my self-expression began to totally disappear. So much so, that when my
daughter and granddaughter moved into their own place and then I into my own
townhome… I kept that apartment style with me and the darkness grew… as did
depression and cancer and loneliness.
Then I started to listen to my soul… which had been
screaming at me for quite some time and realized that my life was finally my
own now and I had to decide what it is “I” truly liked and wanted and where I
wanted to go…
I started very slowly because, admittedly, as most of us
feel, I did not have enough money to really every show the “real me”. However, my therapist with my cancer team at
the Mayo clinic reminded me that I could no longer afford to put my life or
creativity on hold until I had more “cash” or more time. Truth was, I was never going to have either
of those again unless winning the lottery was in my future. So, I have used some very simples steps to
work toward building my new life and decorating my new home (I finally bought my own home): acceptance,
blessing my circumstances, and discovering my true personal preferences… not my
mother’s, not my husband’s and not my family or friends…
MINE!
The back cover of my first book “Surviving the Shadow
Stalker; A Poetic Journey Through Abuse”, showed me in a Victorian
setting. My second book, “Shadows of
Love” showed me under a Texas Mountain Laurel wearing cowboy hat, jeans and a
western style shirt (my life starting to become my own) and my third book, “Dancing
With The Spirits of Shadowplay”, showed me against an Ocotillo fence wearing a
cowboy hat. My current book will have a
photo of me actually hiking up the Superstition Mountain, wearing a cowboy hat
(the only hats I truly look decent in) and walking away from the fast paced world…
I have realized That is ME! I found her,
finally. A desert rat who does not NEED
the things society has been screaming I do need… and so the decorating of my
home truly began in earnest.
Oh, I am sure my children and some other people would not
like my style, which is following my love of the Apache and Navaho Indian) and
sometimes that has made me sad; but my home is warm and charming, cozy,
interesting and it is inviting. I have stopped
wanting to live up to the expectations of other’s and have chosen instead to
live up to my own which, believe me is difficult enough.
While money certainly would help all of us to express
ourselves through our surroundings, I have learned that creating a warm,
inviting home that reflects my own personality did not have to begin with hiring
an interior decorator or reaching for my check book or credit card (I don’t
have a credit card and my checking account is empty). I only had to look at my
home with love… love of self, love of the Creator… love of life.
Once a week, I walk around my new home, burn sage, and
offer thanks for the walls and roof that safely enclose me and my fur boys. As I
have known the pain other woman have also suffered of losing a home to death
and debt, I cherish every moment I have in this place and I ask the Creator to
bless it and let nothing but peace, love, prosperity and faith enter through
its doors.
