#3 of a Series. Rest as Reclamation: Reclaiming the Room
Reclaiming stillness, story, and domestic space
Once upon a time, my dining room was a place of effort and performance.
The good kind, I thought. The kind that meant something.
The long rosewood table dressed with a colorful tablecloth and linen napkins. I'd chop vegetables, monitor the oven, and stir sauces…timing everything just right. I'd smile and bustle and clean, hoping the food and the feeling would land in people’s hearts. Sometimes, it did. But when I look back, I wonder:
Did I actually enjoy the work of it all?
Or did I enjoy the approval that came with doing it well?
That question has become part of my rest practice.
Because rest isn’t just about naps and stillness.
Rest is about untangling ourselves from roles we were never meant to carry.
Rest is making space to remember who we are beneath the performance.
What the culture told us: “A good hostess cooks, serves, and clears without complaint.”
What we may have actually loved: The laughter around the table. The candlelight. Feeling everyone fed and at ease.
What the culture told us: “Real women ‘keep house’- meals on time, linens crisp.”
What we may have actually loved: The sensual pleasure of sautéing garlic…not the sink full of dishes afterward.
What the culture told us: “If the family praises you, you must be doing it right.”
What we may have actually loved: True satisfaction comes when we feel nourished and free while we serve.
These days, my dining room is no longer a room of duty.
It’s become something far more enchanted: I call it Merlin’s Warehouse.
Gone is the service ware. In its place: candles, beads, leather scraps, oracle cards, journals. Artful clutter and sacred mess. A row of houseplants stretch toward the light. A golden elephant runner lies across the table. The air buzzes with creativity, mystery, and yes—rest. Because in this space, I no longer perform. I create. I conjure. I dream.
This transformation didn’t happen overnight.
It unfolded gently, through tiny nudges of truth:
You don’t owe anyone a “should.”
Your home belongs to your soul—not the story you inherited.
You’re allowed to rearrange your life to suit the woman you are becoming.
This is rest.
It’s not laziness.
It’s sacred rebellion.
It’s the undoing of over-functioning and under-valuing ourselves.
It’s walking away from the belief that worth is earned by over-efforting.
It’s saying: My presence is enough. My joy matters. My home can reflect that.
As women, many of us were taught to pour our energy into meals, holidays, laundry, and caregiving- with very little in return. We inherited a story that told us to be grateful for the scraps of appreciation. We weren’t taught to value the value of the spaces we tend, the beauty we make, the love we give.
And certainly not to value ourselves enough to create a room just for magic.
But rest invites us to ask different questions:
· What space in your home feels neglected or burdened with old roles?
· What would it mean to repurpose a corner for your creativity, your stillness, your longing?
· What could you release- physically or energetically- to create a sanctuary within your own walls?
This isn’t about aesthetics.
It’s about reclaiming space.
It’s about re-enchanting the home you actually live in—inside and out.
Merlin’s Warehouse reminds me every day:
I don’t have to earn my rest.
I can design a life- and a home, that reflects who I am now.
That is how I practice rest.
A sacred room. A reclaimed story.
An altar to the self that no longer needs to perform.
With a hug and a wink, Debbie