The Office That Raised Me: Organizing My Space After 20+ Years of Chaos, Kids, and Dogs
For over two decades, I’ve worked from many versions of a home office. I’ve been squished into the corner of a tiny kitchen, nestled into a nook in a playroom, and for a short while I even had a room of my own, with windows and a door that shut all the way. My most recent space was smack in the middle of the living room; not the most ideal for Zoom meetings or igniting a creative spark.
My home “offices” have seen me through countless projects, life changes, and the constant background rhythm of barking dogs. They are where I’ve typed emails with a baby on my hip and a toddler at my feet, with Hannah Montana blasting in the background. They are where I built a new business at 5:00 a.m., juggled work calls and PTA todos, and fielded more than a few "Mom, where’s my...?" interruptions.
They weren’t always tidy. They weren’t ever quiet. But these spaces were mine.
Recently, I relocated my office once again. I decided it was time to reclaim my living room and to have a space of my own, despite the lack of prime real estate in my small home. I opted for a smaller footprint, moving my desk into an often empty guest room. I wanted to set up an area that felt truly mine. I wasn’t creating an Instagram-worthy setup with a gleaming white desk and matching accessories. I wanted a spot that felt cozy and inviting, comfortable and clutter-free, and truly a reflection of me.
Over the years, my home offices had become a kind of storage locker for the endless clutter of family life: school forms, art projects, dog toys, mystery cables, and forgotten receipts. They held more than they needed to. And less of what I loved.
So I rolled up my sleeves, not to erase the past, but to make space for the present.
With the help of The Photographer, I framed some favorite images of my daughters and hung them above my desk. I kept the cute doggie mug given to me by my oldest daughter, filling it with colorful pens and markers. I let go of the files I no longer needed. I sorted, I labeled, I honored. And yes, I finally found a place for the cords and dongles that were threatening to drown my desk in their wake.
What emerged was a space that felt calm and clear, with a little bit of whimsy and joy. A space that felt like me.
Your home office doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to follow someone else’s rules. It just needs to support you - the real you. The working, multitasking, living-life-while-answering-emails you.
Sometimes we think organizing means getting rid of things. But often, it means keeping the right things close. And giving them the dignity of space.
My home offices have held my life for over 20 years. I think my latest spot deserves to feel as grounded and resilient as I do now.
A tidy space doesn’t erase your story - it helps you keep writing it.
Love,
Merrie
