I've grown into appreciation for the concept of adventure, spontaneity. These sort of things used to terrify me, where they now only set off a mild uneasy reaction at the pit of my stomach. The hard fact of the matter is, though, I am a creature of habit. I like familiarity. I like roots. Home.
My room has always been a sanctuary to me. At this point in time, this may be partially due to the fact that our house is 115 years old, and therefore chillier than most, and the bedroom is where the space heater is kept. Or because it's the place where we store the TV. There's also to consider the charming moldings around the windows, the comforter so abundant with colors I'm sure it's related to a kaleidoscope. But I think it's something more than that. Isn't it always?
The last time I was in counseling, we did these sessions that felt like exploring a vast spider web of my different experiences, each of these connected by common underlying emotions, which needed to be faced and dealt with. The only thing is, facing and dealing with things? That's scary. And so Taunia told me to come up with a safe place I could go to in my head if things just go too intense, what with all of the digging up of all of the not-so-pleasant of my past. I immediately decided that this safe place would be my room. It took me no time at all, if your definition of no time at all is only a few seconds.
And I realize there's a whole world out there of places I'm sure I would adore. And I plan on making it to at least a few of those places at some point in the hopefully near future. But to have a place that you can feel safe and comforted in, always. That is not something to be taken for granted.