a room of my own

desk and wooden rocking chairs

Compared to most of the women and men alive today, I live a luxurious life. I have four large rooms and a bathroom all to myself. I have a job that earns me a modest wage, so that I can pay my rent and feed myself, independent of my family or a man. My space is my own – I can buy my own furniture, and move it around to suit my taste. My time is my own – I can choose to spend it as I see fit. My body is my own – I can share it with whom I please, or not at all. My mind is my own – I can believe what I like and say what I feel, without fear of punishment.

Every now and then I give thanks that I live in a country and at a time when I am not judged harshly for being unmarried and childless. Every now and then I give thanks that I can work, and support myself. Every now and then I give thanks that I have a room of my own, where I can create. Not every female artist has been so lucky. I am richer than most of the women and men alive today – and not just financially.

I appreciate this life, and this moment where I find myself.

Do you have a room of your own? Do you need one?

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Above is my front room, where I am writing this blog post. I also have a back room, where I keep an artist’s studio. My home is a haven from the world, and the place that grounds me.