The other night I found myself sitting in front of a dream analyst (long story), relaying to her a particularly terrible, vivid, and generally ew dream from a while ago in which my molars cracked and crumbled one by one inside my mouth. The dream was, in a word, horrifying. And I wanted to know WTF was going on. A year ago, I never would have considered anything quite so mystical. But ever since my long-term boyfriend and I broke up, I’ve been embracing my woo-woo side, which has manifested in a delightfully Urban Outfitters-meets–Magickal Bookstore vibe in my apartment.
I realize now that my molar dream was a very apt metaphor for how I was feeling at the time—it was like the foundation of my life had crumbled away, and I was struggling to find a sense of control. (Not coincidentally, that’s what the dream analyst said that my weird tooth dream symbolized.) See, I moved into my new place with zero furniture or decor—seriously, I didn’t even have a bed. There was something both romantic and terrifying about this, but that’s like every experience for a Pisces, am I right? On the one hand, this is my first time living along and I got to start over from scratch and decorate my space however I wanted.
Without any furnishings, my apartment felt like a new beginning, a wealth of possibilities… but as I began to add essentials like a bed and a desk, it became Spartan and lonely. My budget was also limited, and I spent most of it on essentials like kitchenware and a mattress. It was uncharacteristically fiscally responsible of me. (Well, I also bought an amazing fluffy stool that serves no real purpose other than to make me happy. I’m not perfect.) Because there was nothing else to fill the space, my anxious energy seemed to run rampant. And that’s when I decided to really lean into woo woo decor to see if it could help.
Because there was nothing else to fill the space, my anxious energy seemed to run rampant. And that’s when I decided to really lean into woo woo decor to see if it could help.
Partially to improve the energy of my space, and partially because my anxiety/OCD mandates that I focus on something other than the thing I’m actually stressed about (AKA the breakup), I walked over to my local crystal shop to get some aura- and energy-cleansing essentials. This included: rose quartz, black tourmaline, citrine, palo santo, and a sage bundle. I felt silly, but I actually found that the act of putting the crystals out on my desk and burning the sage calmed me and gave me a sense of control.
I wanted to create a real sensorial experience in my apartment (being self-aware enough to realize how obnoxious that sounds gives me a free pass, right?), so I invested in a Vitruvi essential oil diffuser. I have a variety of different blends that I diffuse when I need to focus, or fall asleep, or cover up the fact that I forgot to do my dishes the night before. (That last one, unfortunately, happens more frequently than I care to admit.)
The next logical step was, obviously, to cover every surface in my apartment with faux sheepskin and faux fur. You can’t woo woo without faux fur. Oh, and I also got a pour over coffee maker because it felt like something someone who lit incense and owned a collection of crystals would have. My decor says a perpetually calm Pilates instructor lives here, not a writer with bad anxiety.
My apartment is still a work-in-progress, but adding these few little touches has helped ease my loneliness. They create the energy I want in my home—so completely different from the place I shared with my ex, and so completely my own.
Next on my home decor list: one of these anxiety-quelling weighted blankets (lord knows I need all the help I can get in that department, as evidenced by this entire story).
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