“A sanctuary is a place you can escape to, to catch your breath and remember who you are. Write about the place you go to when everything is a bit too much.“

My room.

This is my safe space.

Growing up, I always had my own room.

When I was punished as a child I would be sent to my room to ‘think about what I had done’, which I actually liked. It got me away from my brother who was normally the person I was fighting with. It got me a way from the stimulation, and allowed my introverted nature a quiet, safe place to think over what had happened.

I would read, or work on a puzzle, or fume over the injustice that had caused the fight in the first place (because I was a perfect child and never did anything wrong…).

When my parents would come in later to talk to me, we were in a place I was comfortable. We were alone, without the other, offending party being present. I was able to talk freely. Most of the time I felt like I was being heard.

My room became my bubble of protection.

Through the relationships I have had I have come to realize how important having my own space is to me.

While I realize all of my relationships have had major issues, for some of them I think the issues were compounded by the fact that we tried living in a one bedroom apartment.

I didn’t have my own space. And when I needed space, the other person wasn’t as understanding of my introverted nature, and would get upset when I wanted to be alone.

It was exceedingly hard for me to function without a sanctuary. There were times where I would sit in my car in the parking lot at work, dreading the thought of having to go home because I knew as soon as I walked through the door I would be back into a social situation. One that I wasn’t prepared to be in.

I would literally cry at the thought of having to come home because the environment caused me so much stress. Because there was no where else for me to go. Home, the one place where I should undoubtedly feel welcomed, calm, and accepted provided none of those things for me.

If only they could understand that I simply needed 30 minutes to myself, a closed door between me and the world. Just a moment where I could take the world off of my shoulders, freeing myself of the stress and worry before moving on to cooking dinner and doing the dishes, before reliving the day and answering questions about it. That it wasn’t personal and me trying to avoid them. That being alone is a much a need for me as air is.

Currently I have my own room, for the past 4 months roughly, and it has been fantastic. I even have my own bathroom. It’s the closest thing to living on my own that I have had in 3 years, and I feel it has been a crucial factor into my healing process.

Only four people have been inside of my sanctuary, and even then it was to help me move furniture.

I honestly don’t want people in my room. It is not a place to ‘hang out’. It is my one refuge. My one emotionally neutral ground.

There have been no fights in there. No negative memories to hurt me or poke at old wounds.

It is safe, and I love it.