As my daughter transitioned from 12 to 13, her bedroom door sported a new sign: “PRIVATE. DO NOT ENTER!!!!!” Adorned with colorful markers and cheerful daisy stickers, the message was unmistakable.
Throughout her seventh-grade year, the signs evolved in both clarity and creativity. A nod to her love for Dr. Who, one read, “Enter at your own risk: Guarded by Daleks.” She even crafted a humorous list of Edward Gorey-inspired punishments for the uninvited.
While she never explicitly objected to my occasional entry, the signs clearly conveyed her desire for privacy as she navigated the complexities of adolescence. Her space had transformed from merely a room into a true “Room of Her Own,” albeit in a junior version.
Initially, I felt a pang of sadness at this shift, mourning the loss of the innocent days of her childhood. But then it struck me: I want both of my daughters to have their own spaces. We are fortunate to share our lives while also having the solitude we sometimes need. As the adage goes, “Good fences make good neighbors,” and I’ve realized that our family’s harmony benefits from a few closed doors.
My older daughter began this ritual two and a half years earlier, shutting her door each night. Often, I found myself knocking repeatedly, at times losing my patience and banging on the door in frustration when there was no response. This was especially aggravating since she was still struggling to get out of bed on her own each morning.
In moments of exasperation, I would ask, “How can you lock me out while still relying on me for everything?” The deeper question I never voiced was, “Why wouldn’t you want me with you?”
However, with my younger daughter, I find it far easier to accept the locked doors and whimsical signs. Having already navigated this journey with my eldest, I’ve witnessed how she emerged from her own adolescent struggles. Now nearing 17, my older daughter no longer finds me embarrassing; instead, she is polite and respectful, so my feelings no longer take a hit when she requests her space.
Moreover, this second daughter shares my passion for writing. She can spend entire afternoons crafting captivating beginnings and middles of stories, like a unique twist on Cinderella featuring a blue-haired alien. (At her age, she’s much better at starting stories than finishing them.) She writes heartfelt song lyrics reminiscent of Carrie Underwood, exploring heartbreaks she hasn’t yet experienced, and composes endless poems.
So, when she retreats to her room, I understand it’s not just an escape from me but rather a journey toward self-discovery. Much like Virginia Woolf articulated almost a century ago, a young woman who writes needs a space for her imagination to flourish.
I can relate; I often crave a quiet place to write, away from household distractions like dishes and work emails. While I cherish the shared spaces in our home, there are days I long for a dedicated writing room. If I had that space, I’d hang a sign that boldly declares: “KEEP OUT! WRITER AT WORK!!!!!!!!!” And it definitely wouldn’t have any daisy stickers.
I still occasionally enter my daughters’ spaces, but with more experience as a mother of teenagers, my judgment has matured. I’ve learned when to enforce household rules—like cleaning up after dinner and completing homework before watching TV—and when to let them enjoy their own time.
In just two years, my eldest will graduate from high school, and in five, my youngest will turn 19. Eventually, they will venture into the world, seeking their own rooms and deciding how to inhabit those spaces. The signs on their doors will eventually come down as they grow more secure in their identities.
Without daughters to care for, wake up in the mornings, or remind to fold their laundry, I will have ample time to write. And I have no doubt I will miss those signs on their doors.
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In summary, as our daughters grow and claim their own spaces, we embrace the balance of connection and independence.
