It is well known that the space we inhabit affects the way we feel.
As a younger adult marking my territory in the grown-up world, how my home looked from a trend perspective was important to me, but over the years I have begun to care less about trendy aesthetics for others to admire. Now its more about how my home makes me feel.
Consequently, in recent years there has been an invasion of soft pillows, warm blankets, and scented candles. But whilst these things are all contributing to a comfy space in which I can switch off, it is filling my home with things of personal value that is enveloping me in a much appreciated warm cloud of hugs.
Having now spent time with myself for a number of years, I have collected many treasured keepsakes with which I can boost my memories. Initially they were stored in various boxes and trunks under beds or in attic space, but I have recently dragged them out of their hiding, dusted them down and weaved their chronicles throughout the rooms of my home.
There are photographs of family and friends cropping up everywhere, postcards and travel tickets on display, trinkets bought on a whim in faraway places, empty bottles of much enjoyed champagne being turned into lighting and even, maybe, a few ‘borrowed’ hotel items such as facecloths and ‘do not disturb’ door hangers.
And now, when my working day and socialising is finished, I sink into my armchair, and wrap myself in my blanket content with all these things around me that remind me of who I am, and where I’ve been. My personality is reflected in every furnishing, my history loiters in every nook and cranny, and my story is told in pictures across walls and referenced across bookshelves. If there’s a skeleton greeting me when I open a cupboard, well frankly, that’s okay, cause it’s one of my own and I cherish its memory.
But why is this important to me? Well whilst I don’t understand the science (if indeed there is any), I have realised that filling my home with memories and keepsakes is having a positive impact on my mood – and that is very important.
A study called Is Happiness U-Shaped Everywhere, has informed how 47 years old is the age we're at our unhappiest. The research shows that our happiness begins to decrease after the age of 18 and doesn't recover until our mid-60s.
In other words, mid-life is actually flipping hard. And that’s not surprising when we think about what mid-life often looks like; in reality it is a time when many are getting divorced, worrying about our parents, experiencing health issues, and negotiating the behaviours and welfares or our older children. All these things can generate major stresses in our over-thinking, insomniac minds.
Personally, I do not want to spend over a decade risking unhappiness, which is why I am doing everything I can to provide myself with pockets of contentment and happiness. Looking around my cosy home filled with memories I can appreciate how far I’ve come. There are no photos of missed opportunities, only souvenirs of opportunities fulfilled. Every room offers a long lens on achievements, friendships, and chances taken.
I've realised that before I surrounded myself with these daily prompts to reflect upon my past, I had often been looking back with such a short lens that I had forgotten to fully appreciate how far I’d come. Instead I’d been focussing on what I hadn’t accomplished and scrutinising what I could have done differently.
Living like that, I was at risk of diminishing my happiness.
I’m not saying I’m going to spend all my time holed up inside my home with my memories - like some sort of modern Miss Havisham. I’m just determined that whilst the unavoidable hormone changes induce hot flushes, insomnia, and mood swings, I am going to do everything I can to protect my peace of mind.
And as my body shape changes, and my joints begin to ache more readily, I shall balance the feeling of needing to rest and recharge alongside the memories of activity and past adventures. I can choose my future purpose balanced against what I have achieved already. My cosy home filled with its sentiment and memorabilia offers freedom from the need to prove myself.
To be clear - I’m not making my home a place where I intend to slow down, and I’m not about to drown my future self in memories. My home isn’t becoming a homage to my former self. It’s the opposite, it’s a source of strength, calm and restoration.
Spending time within its peace and reflection is instilling me with the power to continue living my best life.
How does your home work for you? Please share your experiences in the comments.
Read more Hell of a Midlife articles.
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