The Rooms We Learn to Avoid
We don't avoid rooms because we're weak. We avoid them because, once upon a time, being in that room hurt too much.
The room where something ended. The room where we were misunderstood. The room where we learned to stay quiet, agreeable, or invisible in order to survive.
Avoidance is often framed as a flaw—something to "push through" or "get over." But avoidance is usually the very thing that has protected us for years. It keeps us functioning when feeling would be too overwhelming.
The problem is that avoidance doesn't know when to stop. And it's impossible to settle in and build a new home around locked doors.
What once protected us eventually becomes a barrier we don't remember choosing. And over time, the cost of not going back grows heavier than the pain we were trying to escape.
Avoided rooms don't disappear. They wait.
They show up as exhaustion we can't explain. As relationships that feel shallow or tense. As a sense that we're living smaller than we're capable of without knowing why.
They show up as behaviors we can't seem to understand. We're overreactive or underreactive. We allow people to treat us in ways we know are wrong because at our core we hold a smaller value for ourselves than we deserve. We don't let people in because of the fear that letting down our guard, even for a moment, could mean more hurt. Then we miss out on true connection and beautiful relationships that could build us up and fulfill us.
There are so many ways these rooms show up in disguise. Where we once needed to protect ourselves, we now limit ourselves and miss the big life we are supposed to be living.
In The Room to Be Brave, I use rooms as a metaphor because memories live somewhere. Experiences shape us somewhere. And healing, I've learned, doesn't come from bulldozing the house or pretending those spaces never existed.
It comes from walking back slowly. With compassion. With curiosity. With a willingness to sit down and look around.
You don't have to redecorate every room. You don't have to stay long. You don't even have to open every door today.
But noticing which rooms you avoid—and asking yourself why—is often the beginning of something honest.
And honesty, gentle as it is, is where bravery starts.
Want more stories about finding joy, breaking cycles, and choosing courage? Sign up here to get updates about the book launch, and you’ll receive a downloadable guide to finding your own rooms that may be holding you in place.
