MEMOIR

How Hidden Anxiety Shapes Our Picture-Perfect Homes

A tale of two kitchens

My old view. Photo by author.

For the first time in decades, I had time on my hands. My four adult children had their own homes and lives, and I’d given up my busy London acupuncture practice.

With money in the bank, I moved to Cornwall and bought a beautiful view with a property attached. The property reflected me: dated and tired. This was what the kitchen looked like:

There was very little light. Photo by author.

I’d spent my life with little idea of who “I” was. I’d been so busy trying to please everyone else, to fit in, and feel connected that I’d lost any sense of self. I suspect I lost it very early on in life.

I was the classic child of an alcoholic: a controlling people-pleaser. I’d spent my life trying to shape myself into someone worthy of being loved while also trying to rescue and fix others.

Now, the time was ripe for me to journey inward and make sense of who I was.

But I didn’t do that. Instead, I turned my attention to making the house and garden beautiful. I knocked walls down, installed French windows, and created this space: