The First Room to Change (and Why It Matters)

We have walked a quiet path together, learning to live with memory, curate our belongings, and soften the hollow silence that can settle after loss. Through this journey, one of the most common and understandable questions I hear is, “I want to change something, but I simply don’t know where to start.”

That hesitation makes perfect sense. After a loss, everything can feel too big, too precious, or too uncertain. When the entire house holds so much shared history, even the slightest change can feel like a risk. It’s easy to become paralyzed by the scale of it all, so we do nothing.

But the truth is, you don’t need a full-scale plan. You don’t need to know the end state of every room. You just need a gentle place to begin.

And often, the most powerful room to change first isn’t the biggest or most public one—it’s the one you spend the most time in alone, the one that marks the passages of your day.

Why the Bedroom (or Entryway) Often Comes First

Think of these spaces as "transitional." The bedroom is where your day begins and ends; the entryway is the threshold where you leave the world behind and come home to yourself. Psychologically, these spaces set the tone for your state of being. If they feel stagnant or heavy with absence, that feeling can ripple through your entire day. Conversely, if they begin to shift, that sense of gentle forward movement can ripple outward as well.

These are also the spaces where absence can feel sharpest. The empty side of the bed is an untouched landscape of memory. The coatrack by the door may still hold a jacket that no longer moves. The hallway can feel like it echoes with silence.

Environmental psychologists confirm that these high-use, personal spaces have a disproportionate impact on our nervous system. They are the bookends of our day.

Changing them, even slightly, is a powerful act of "behavioral activation"—a way of using small, physical actions to influence our emotional state. It's about interrupting a pattern of avoidance and gently introducing a new reality.

Changing these spaces doesn’t have to be dramatic. It might be:

• Moving your bed to a new wall or simply choosing new linens in a color that feels like you.

• Adding a lamp with a warm, soft glow to the nightstand.

• Clearing one surface that has been left untouched for too long.

• Hanging a small, new piece of art that makes you smile near the front door.

• Placing a new rug underfoot to soften your first and last steps of the day.

Small Changes Create Big Shifts

When you make one small room feel more aligned with who you are now—or even who you are becoming—it sends a profound signal to your nervous system: This space is safe.

This space is mine. I am allowed to feel differently here.

Putting down a new rug doesn’t just change the look of a floor; it changes the feeling underfoot, creating a new sensory input that is tied only to the present. Moving the bed doesn’t just alter a room’s layout; it alters the way you see the room from your most vulnerable state, at rest. These are not just decorative choices; they are therapeutic acts that help reset your internal compass.

This isn’t about rushing the grieving process. It’s about allowing your home to meet you where you are, one room at a time.

If you’ve been standing on the edge, waiting for the “right” place to start, perhaps it isn’t the biggest project. Maybe it’s just the room you’re in the most. And possibly making one small change, there is more than enough for today.

If you’d like help figuring out where to begin—practically and emotionally—I’m here. Let’s find that starting point together.