I Want to Paint the Bedroom.
I really want to paint our bedroom. Right now it’s a dark greenish-blue, with almost the same color trim in gloss. I was reading a lot of Elle Decor and Kelly Wearstler books when I chose the color, so I really went for it. I had this image of a Moroccan-inspired English library with crown moldings and oil paintings on the walls. I pored over books and magazines looking for inspiration, snapping photos and tearing out pages that really spoke to me.
This was 5 or 6 years ago, when we were finishing our complete renovation of our apartment in our new 3-family house. I sought out just the right sconces for bedside lamps on Craigslist and Matt spray-painted them a lovely muted gold. I found an amazing midcentury swivel-chair upholstered in cream with a tone-on-tone woodgrain pattern. I snagged it for $50 at a junk shop nearby, and it fit perfectly in the corner. I experimented with different textures and colors of bedding, finally settling on whites and creams. There were several incarnations of blinds: plain white roller blinds, homemade fabric roller blinds that never ended up looking the way I wanted them to, and then finally the floor-to-ceiling lined curtains in a heavy pale yellow fabric with a dragonfly pattern that Matt and I made. They’re enormous (we have 9 foot ceilings), extend from wall to wall, and slightly puddle at the floor. It’s hard to believe we pulled it off with a $60 Walmart sewing machine. We tried putting up some framed prints of vintage travel posters, but I never really loved them, so last year I took them down and adopted a slightly more minimalist aesthetic. We have a small lamp on a low grey wood crate that creates a lovely aura on the large blank wall behind it. We started out with just a boxspring and mattress on a metal frame, but finally bought a bed with an upholstered headboard this year.
Around the same time we bought the bed, I decided that we needed to paint the ceiling. It was a slightly paler blue-green than the walls and I thought a soft grey would open up the space a bit. I was in no state of mental health to embark on such a project, but Matt’s quite the painting pro, so he did most of the painting before we brought in my mom’s expert hand to cut in the exposed edge. I wanted the change because I had spent a lot of hours staring at that ceiling while in the worst of my bipolar II depression last summer. Unmedicated and experiencing fits of violence, I spent hours and days on end curled in a ball on my side of the bed, staring at the curtains, the wall, the ceiling. I’d collapse on the floor beside the bed wailing before climbing back into that spot on the mattress where I went through the worst time of my life. That spot is still my home base- the place I run to whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed or sad or just don’t know what else to do. Painting the ceiling was fine- a great improvement- but I still feel like there’s some serious bad energy in that spot that’s not helping me with my recovery. I bought a sage smudge stick, having heard that burning it could help clear the space. I have yet to burn it for fear of setting the curtains on fire, but I’ll get around to it soon.
Last summer, when I’d lie in that spot, I always kept the blinds and the curtains drawn. I couldn’t bear the light, or the possibility of being seen by passersby. But now I’m getting used to letting the light in, thanks to installing some frosted window film. The house that belongs to my horrible Trump-supporting neighbors is in full view through those windows, so I decided this was the best way to get some light in without having to look at that house. It’s actually working out great. But I’m still not satisfied. What once felt like a dark, calming, womb-like space for sleep now feels like a constant reminder of my illness. That lovely chair is where Matt or my mom would keep watch over me, making sure I didn’t harm myself, helpless to do anything for me but sit there, urging me to agree to go to the hospital.
The dark walls and doors now feel like a tomb around me. I think I need more than a little burning of sage. So I’ve got my sights set on completely repainting the room. I’m thinking more soft grey, or even just white. I need a fresh start, and what’s fresher than white? The process will be an absolute ordeal- even our radiator is painted the same peacock blue color as our trim. (We’ll leave that as it is, since we’ve had disastrous results painting radiators ourselves and eventually hired the pros to do it.) But everything else will be painted. Those sconces are going to have to be switched out for something less ornate. The chair will stay- Matt just fixed it for the third time and he still sits there all the time. And the curtains will definitely stay. I think that with everything else changing, they won’t hold negative connotations for me.
I’ve thought about rotating the mattress, but worry about the negative energy that will then be at Matt’s feet. This doesn’t concern him at all. He says that if anything bad happens to him, it won’t be from my “negative energy.” I know it’s silly to think of it that way, but I still want to make the changes. I’ve always been very sensitive to my environment and feel that if I can change my literal perspective, that could affect my perspective on life as well. I’m eager to get this project going, but so far the overwhelming nature of it is preventing me from getting started. Matt’s volunteered to do the actual painting, but I want so badly to do it myself. I did plenty of painting when we were renovating our place as well as our third floor rental apartment, so I’m fully capable. I just feel psychologically paralyzed. I mean, it’s way harder than brushing my teeth or going to the gym, both of which I struggle with a lot right now. I keep thinking about Gwyneth Paltrow in that movie Sliding Doors where she has a real “you go girl” moment and paints her office blue. If only I could channel Gwyneth. Click here to see the results.
