Jenny Block opines on the importance of a room of one’s own

My wife gave me the most incredible wedding gift — something I couldn’t have even dreamed up if I tried: a room of my own. We don’t have an especially large house — “Just right” is how I would describe it. What we do have are digs that are perfect for hosting lots of guests. So its design and décor is all geared toward entertaining, which means two guest rooms. Thing is, there are plenty of days during the fall and winter when those rooms stay unoccupied.

One is my daughter’s room — well, it’s designated as such at least. She’s away at college and uses it sporadically. (And much less than this empty-nesting mom would like. But that’s another essay.) The other room was just a guest room. Only not anymore. Now it’s my study. That’s what I like to call it, mostly because my dad always had a room that he called his study. Clearing out all of the old furniture from that room and completely redecorating it was my wedding gift. I could do whatever I liked with it … and I did.

I put in a sofa bed, so it can still be used for guests, and an oversize ottoman. It also has a big armoire for my clothes, a bookcase, a chair, a side table. My wife hung the chandelier that we used in our wedding chuppah and replaced the light figure with a sparkly one that fills the space with glittery light. I added all kinds of objet d’art — well, tchotchkes — I’ve amassed over the years. (Think unicorns and tiny paintings, favorite books and stuffed animals.) I pulled out embroidered pillowcases that I had bought years ago at an antique show to cover the throw pillows and bought a vintage, pink chenille throw for snuggling in.

The minute it was done, I fell in love with it. Whenever I settle in, I light a cherry candle that Robin got for me in Traverse City, Mich., on our engagement trip, and the room smells sweet and happy. The light is lovely day and night. The sofa is small and comfy, and everything in there is something that makes me smile. But more than anything, the room reminds me of how thoughtful my wife is. I moved from my house of more than 15 years in Dallas to this house that she originally bought as a weekend cottage but which we now use full time.

We are slowly replacing furniture and decorating it to suit the two of us. But the paint and the renovations and much of the furniture and rugs predate me. I moved into her house. It’s a great house. But it wasn’t really mine. So to have a space where I’m the only one who gets to choose how fluffy or pink or kitschy (or whatever) the things that go in there are is pretty wonderful. Couplehood is about two people creating a future together, not about two people erasing their pasts.

Honoring someone with a room of her own is really quite lovely. I feel happy in there — complete. I go there to write or read or just hang out with my dog Walter, who likes the room as much as I do (especially that chenille throw). For me, that room is about being with someone who loves me, not my potential. It feels like an affirmation of that fact that she has no desire or intention to change me and, actually, instead, wants to preserve who I am while also growing as a couple together.

It’s one of the biggest mistakes couples make as far as I’m concerned — “becoming one.” That’s not a thing. And when people try to make it a thing, it becomes a very dangerous game, because, well, it’s not a thing. People have their own minds and hearts and feelings.

They also have their own tastes and interests and things. You fell in love with the other person because of who she is (hopefully, anyway). So why on earth would you want to erase that? Instead, you should celebrate it.

We all need a place for our own thoughts. And it’s not about the size of the space. It doesn’t even have to be a whole room — it can simply be a nook or a corner where you keep the things that make you feel safe and when you smile and only you get to decide what goes there and how it goes in there. It’s like that old adage, “If you love something then set it free” — “If you love someone, let them be.” My little study lets me just be. But more than that, it’s an outward expression of just how much my wife wants me to be me. Unicorns and all.