The Rooms We Don’t Show Anyone—And What They Reveal About Us

On what happens when we finally stop avoiding the mess—inside and out.

Lately, I’ve been meeting parts of myself I didn’t know were there.

Versions that were hidden, unactivated, or still undeveloped in my younger years. Facets that only life’s curveballs, intimate relationships, and the quiet work of self-reflection could bring into focus.

It reminds me of the rooms we neglect in our homes. The ones that quietly collect clutter or stay closed behind a door we rarely open—because life is full, and it feels more comforting to focus on the parts we’ve already made beautiful. So we ignore them. Until the piles grow. The door sticks. Someone asks about the mess. Our inner voice starts to nudge—or nag—us. And suddenly, we’re faced with what we’ve been avoiding.

I have a room like this in my own home—our playroom. The kids have gotten older, and it no longer serves a clear purpose in our day-to-day lives. But because playrooms are supposed to be messy, I’ve used that as my excuse not to deal with it. It’s filled with toys from their toddler years, stacks of school projects and artwork, and odds and ends I didn’t quite know what to do with. The truth is, I’ve avoided it not just because it’s cluttered—but because it doesn’t match the polished picture I like to present, even to myself.

But of course, those things don’t stay hidden forever. And our inner lives aren’t so different. The parts of us we resist—insecurities, old wounds, unfinished stories, and deep fears—begin to affect everything around them. They shape how we show up in relationships, how much joy we allow ourselves to feel, and how at ease we are in our own skin.

It takes self-awareness, maturity, and humility to face those internal rooms. And it’s rarely glamorous. But when we do—whether it’s emotional or physical clearing—something shifts. There’s a kind of quiet alchemy that begins inside. We feel lighter. Freer. More at home within ourselves and the lives we’re creating.

The messy middle is the hardest part—that moment when everything’s pulled out of the drawers and nothing feels sorted. I’ve been there—staring at the mess, untethered because it wasn’t contained, curated, or easy to control. Just raw, imperfect, and everywhere. But eventually, as we keep showing up to the work, the energy softens. We start to move through the room with ease. We stop flinching when someone catches a glimpse. We speak the stories we once held in silence. And in doing so, those rooms lose their hold on us. We’re no longer contorting ourselves to avoid them—they simply become part of the home we’ve built. No longer hidden. Lovingly integrated.

If there’s a room you’ve been avoiding—literally or metaphorically—maybe this is your sign to begin tending to it. You don’t have to do it all at once. Try this:

• Before you begin, set an intention—not to make it perfect, but to take one honest step forward.

• Choose one drawer or surface and clear it while listening to a favorite playlist or podcast.

• Speak kindly to the version of you who created the mess. She was doing her best with what she had. Thank her—and then gently move forward. It might sound silly, but this can help dissolve the shame we often carry around clutter.

• Light a candle, open a window, and let a little light and beauty back in—enough to make the space start to feel like you again.

• Let go of the guilt around how long it’s been. It’s not a failure—it’s just a starting point.

• Add one thing that brings you joy: a framed photo, a small object you love, a vase of flowers. Let beauty be part of the reset, not just the result.

• And as you do, notice what shifts in you—what feelings surface. Do you feel lighter? A bit more clear?

Tending to what we’ve hidden is never just about the room. It’s about reclaiming the parts of ourselves that deserve light, attention, and space to breathe. I’m still learning this. Still reminding myself that beauty doesn’t require perfection.

And like most things worth tending to, it starts small. There’s no need to rush. Just begin where you are. One drawer. One thought. One room at a time. You might be surprised by what clears in you as you clear the space around you.

x Crystal

You can find me on Instagram here. And my archives here.