We have a workshop connected to our detached garage that the previous owner used for making bullets. We inherited the filth, clutter, and massive gun safe bolted to the concrete foundation. The vibe could best be described as: brutal.

And yet, it was a quiet, separate space for uninterrupted work with an incredible nature view. Do you smell the potential through the scent of grease and metal shavings?

We did. So we turned it into an earthy, minimalist home office for the healing work of therapy.

The contrast could not be more stark.

Flooring

We had the freezing, orange-brown tile floor covered in self-leveling concrete and a thermal barrier, then topped with a durable and beautiful, Scandinavian style light wood LVP flooring.

But even if redoing flooring is not on the agenda for your office space (we moved through that project as an add-on when we were replacing carpet on the entire lower level of our house during the flooring company’s annual sale, after having lived in the space for a couple of years), a rug is hugely impactful in creating the foundation for a room.

What was hard and cold now feels soft and warm.

In therapy we talk a lot about grounding and I connect that with interior design here—the foundation that supports you matters. And this rug that reminds me of a sweater while still being low-pile enough for an office chair to roll over is just what this space needed under foot.

Walls

The brown walls were wrapped in shiplap and painted an antique white (Benjamin Moore, White Dove, OC-17), connecting the space aesthetically with the main house.

The shiplap adds sound and thermal insulation while contributing to the earthy texture this home craves sitting on a bluff in the tree tops.

The light and airy yet soulful white creates a feeling of simplicity and imperfection that is naturally reassuring.

Window Treatments

I went for thick, velvet curtains in a deep turquoise that pull in the green-blue water from the Sound. They offer more sound and temperature regulation while feeling textural, soft, and rich, heavy in a way that feels protective.

We mounted the brackets as high as the room will allow and outside the window frame enough for the curtains to not block any light or view while open. They feel decadent without becoming cumbersome (we want to invite in every ounce of light in our Pacific Northwest climate).

Temperature

This space had no heat or air conditioning beyond a wall cadet that was deemed a fire hazard, so we made the investment of installing a mini split (ductless) heater/air conditioner when we installed the same system throughout the main house after living on the property very hot and very cold for a couple of years (our house had no heat in a climate that freezes—buying fixer uppers does require a capacity for sitting in discomfort). A nice, free-standing Dyson heater was facilitating my survival, but actual heat and a/c is a game-changing luxury (go figure). I have the unit automated with a timer so it’s the perfect temperature when I come in for work and is not running when I’m gone.

I also have the windows open as often as the weather allows. Airing out a space with fresh air increases my sense of connection with nature, which feels nourishing to my soul. Feeling a fresh salty breeze off the water, hearing the leaves rustling in the trees . . . ahhhhhhh. Part of why I spend summers writing outside on my deck is because the more in connection with nature I feel, the more creativity is unlocked within me. This is also true in therapy sessions or while working inside my office. Whenever possible, open windows, and air out your space along with your being.

Lighting

We removed the boob lights and ceiling fan and installed inexpensive, warm, soft, low-profile ceiling lights (“soft,” as in, has a milky white cover that diffuses the light).

Overhead lighting can feel torturous, but when doing video work on camera, adequate lighting is important. I can get away with not using artificial lights at all during the sunnier part of the year, when the natural light of our long days pouring in through the four windows is lovely. But when the cold darkness descends here, bringing in warm light is necessary—for video work, practical functioning, and mental health.

For the first twenty years of my adulthood spent raising and homeschooling three young children with wild spirits and rambunctious bodies, lamps were irreconcilable. Their top heavy structure could not withstand the high level of fast moving activity swirling around them. They felt like unsustainable fragile clutter.

But now that my brood is fully adolescent, I have officially entered my lamp era. The character of the gentle glow of a lamp is delectable. They have an unobtrusive warmth that feels like a visual warm blanket. No matter how otherwise cozy the vibe, lamplight is second only to fire or flame at tugging at my evolutionary heart strings and fostering that exhale of safety, warmth, and creativity—hygge.

I do also have two soft (diffused) video lights that I have used when recording videos in the darker evening hours. But I would never use a ring light. Those glowing circles in people’s eyes are distracting and disturbing to me. As a therapist, I prioritize connection, and those lights in particular tend to be disconnecting on an interpersonal level.

Furniture

Desk: A good starting point for furniture in a home office is the desk. While I am willing to spend less on things like curtains and lights, I am willing to invest more in this strong, anchor piece for a work space. A desk that is the furniture equivalent of fast fashion feels like it devalues whatever work I’m doing. It might seem silly to some, but I’m a therapist, so let’s go deep here. In a patriarchal and capitalist culture where the work of women is profoundly and foundationally devalued, wobbly structure and ephemeral substance seems to reinforce those forces. I crave substance and strength, craftsmanship and legacy. I long for the real wood of an actual tree, shaped by human hands. And I haven’t yet found that piece that I hear calling to me, so I carry on with the World Market desk that is good enough until I find something more values-aligned.

Desk Chair: I have almost an opposite sentiment for a desk chair. I need comfort and I’ll take all the modern materials and technology in service of the physical support my body needs to be comfortable enough to access the bandwidth for doing the work that matters to me. My last desk chair was a stylish velvet number that looked pretty but offered zero ergonomic support. I won’t make that mistake again. I need a thick seat cushion for my vulva while menstruating, lumbar support for long periods of sitting, a breathable back for temperature regulation, and adjustable everything to fit my (smaller than the default male standard that everything in our society is designed for) body. I am very happy with my investment in the Branch ergonomic chair (and the color options still allow for some style).

Sofa: I knew I wanted a lived-in, leather-look for the material of my sofa to contribute to that earthy texture in the space. I’m also a fan of fabrics like corduroy and velvet. We are such sensory beings and the feeling of things that touch our skin matter.

I knew I wanted a loveseat to fit the width of the narrow room but also to allow for all body sizes and more than one person while maintaining a sense of being held as an individual. As a client in therapy, I’ve sat alone on a large sofa, which generated feelings of being exposed and lost. I’ve also sat in individual chairs and it felt like there wasn’t enough space to accommodate the spirit of other people that I needed to bring into my own work. And of course, as a marriage and family therapists, having the physical capacity to seat two people for relational work can be important (whereas floor space is important for play therapy with young children and a large sofa is important with polyamorous relationships). Essentially, know who you serve and furnish accordingly.

As a therapist with an online practice, the sofa visually represents everything I described above. My clients can feel almost like they’re projecting themselves into the space with me, right through the video call. Seeing that place for themselves to be held can help with that connection. In virtual work, we do have more latitude to prioritize the look of the sofa over the comfort of the sofa, but ideally a sofa is providing both.

Functionally, my sofa is for me and my family members, who come in and out of the space as needed (and I treasure that accessibility, so I hold space for it—they are welcome, so long as I’m not in session with clients). I purchased this inexpensive piece of furniture online and I got what I paid for (it’s not comfortable). Someday I anticipate replacing it with more of an investment piece that I will be happy to comfortably lounge into while working. That day is not today and that’s okay (let’s all embrace a lifestyle of slow design as we curate our homes and spaces).

Credenza: A credenza holds practical office supplies like a printer and a wifi router. As a minimalist, the admin side of my family and work life is digital and organized (for example, we have no paperwork beyond one small file for each being containing the legally required documents like birth certificates). But there are some things that are necessary or helpful, tucked away neatly in this piece of furniture (printer paper, printer ink, small phone tripod, etc.).

One significant investment for my work that has been more important than any of the others we’ve covered so far is internet. If we’re curating a work space and any of our work happens online, reliable, high-speed internet is the single most essential investment. Since this space is separate from our house, getting what I needed out here has been quite a feat. But I’m finally there! And these wifi zoomies my clients and I now enjoy were worth every minute my husband spent trenching a wire from the house (hee hee, thanks, Hubs).

Decor

Degrees: I resisted displaying my degrees for a long time as part of my deschooling work while coaching unschooling families. At this point in my life and career, my relationship with my education feels more healthfully integrated. I can hold both the benefits and the criticisms, walking through the doors those degrees open while working to decolonize the oppressive systems from the inside, embracing the trust they generate while working to recalibrate the implied human hierarchy in relationships with my clients. Displaying diplomas for work that legally requires advanced degrees can feel reassuring to clients.

But those degrees don’t have to be framed with the design aesthetic of a 90’s accountant. My solid white oak frames with rounded corners (11×14 matted to 8×10 fit my diplomas well enough) bring a modern bohemian style to an old system of institutional gatekeeping.

Art: The art I have selected speaks to me deeply, is aligned with the values I work to support, and resonates with my clients. There’s a concept in marketing that if you’re trying to appeal to everyone, you appeal to no one. This applies to art selection as well. Through art we can curate an emotional experience. So let’s really go for it and show up with vulnerable authenticity here.

Art can also be an opportunity for variety, keeping the creative energy in the space fresh. It can be an opportunity for supporting artists, especially from within communities that you seek to elevate. I’m challenging us to forgo a Home Goods special that matches the color of a throw pillow in favor of a painting by a BIPOC artist that makes us feel something complimentary to the work we’re striving to do in the therapeutic space. (Art featured is a print titled Crowning Glory by Marabou Designs.)

Art can also be three dimensional. I have a large, macramé, fiber art piece on the longest wall of my office that breaks up the expanse of shiplap with a soft, cozy, neutral wall hanging. It helps with sound insulation (reducing echo, just like the curtains and rugs) and feels playfully peaceful to me without being distracting. I purchased it from a fiber artist who had been ripped off (copied) by a giant corporation who mass produced her work without her permission or compensation, which I’m sharing as an example of how I try to spend in alignment with my values where I can.

Books: I love books. I’ve written books. I read non-fiction every morning and fiction every night. I experience a significant amount of learning, growth, and enlightenment through books. I share meaningful parts of myself through my writing. I spent my fond mothering years in libraries with my children and surrounded by a steady rotation of books in our hands and home. I’m also a minimalist who supports everything about public libraries, so most of my literary consumption happens through Libby (the library app). I don’t believe I need to own something to appreciate it.

All that said, I’ve chosen to purchase and display a very thoughtful collection of the books that have been the most influential to myself, my work, and my clients. It feels like just enough to be meaningful without being overwhelming (book spines can be visually loud). I will sometimes draw a book out from the shelf during a session for reference, so it’s also supporting the work I’m doing in a practical sense. They also serve as reminders, almost holding me accountable to the values I have worked hard to cultivate for myself.

And once again, books are great for sound insulation. I’m sure we’re all tired of hearing those words at this point, but an echoey space feels hollow and harsh. I want the soundscape to feel more like a hug.

The books rest on a simple, free-standing shelf my husband built from scrap wood we had lying around. This simple solution was sufficient as I wanted the shelf to be invisible behind the sofa. I love the way it makes the material feel accessible, like this is within your reach (physically and metaphorically).

Plants: Nature is my church, so I love being in connection with nature, particularly in its wild and natural form. Indoor plants are an absolute delight for me to experience, but are an overwhelming and stressful amount of work for me to manage. They feel more like a burden in this season of life. Perhaps it’s a result of being in the final seasons of residential motherhood in which all my people have needed a great deal from me and the living plants are read by my system as one more living being dependent on me for survival. Or maybe I was just born with a brown thumb. Either way, I am so grateful and happy to appreciate being in spaces with plants (my ideal for this space would be for it to practically feel like a greenhouse), and I accept that that endeavor is not for me. So if you have a green thumb, please fill your spaces with plants and share photos online for me to devour. Research supports the benefits of indoor plants for both physical and mental health. I’ll just keep my curtains open and thank Mother Nature for the bountiful landscaping she generously provides.

Pets: While pets don’t exactly qualify as decor, they can be an adorable co-regulating factor in a home office space. My fluffy little maltipoo, Autumn, is always a welcome addition to my backdrop when she follows me out on my walk to my office. My virtual clients get some of the benefit of being in shared space with an emotional support dog without the potential complications (allergies, liability, barking, etc.).

Desktop

While I am very much bothered by a cluttered horizontal surface, there are a few things that I experience as beneficial to keep right on the surface of my desk. There’s no magic number or list that is perfect for everyone, but being intentional about the objects that live within reach is important.

Tissues: Duh. Tears happen in therapy. Mine included. But tissues are handy for all kinds of bodily needs (mucus, sweat, oil, blood, messes, etc.). It’s a soft, all-purpose workhorse in a space that unpacks trauma. My one complaint about tissues is the nauseatingly loud colors and patterns on the boxes, which I solved with an inexpensive cover. What was standing out, demanding attention, now blends in, only noticed when needed.

Pens: A tiny, adorable glass jar that a friend used to deliver me sweet pea flowers she grew in her garden now holds Muji pens and an ultra fine tip sharpie (the jar is imbued with the love from that sweet gesture and I feel it every time I look at or touch it).

Candle: A grapefruit and pine candle purchased on an outing exploring a small island town with friends while our kids sailed together from a local small business. Does it give me asthma to burn scented candles? Maybe. Is it worth it? Yes, sometimes a scented candle is essential for setting the vibe (especially in the colder months).

Matchstick Holder: Lighting the candle is so much more of an experience using this pretty, handmade artifact from another local artisan on a nearby island.

Water Bottle: Owala water bottle fully loaded with ice and water everywhere always.

Snack: Sweetened nuts in a mason jar for an emergency sweet and healthy snack.

If you live in Washington state and could benefit from the healing support of therapy, consider this your official invitation to beam into this space with me (you can book a session right here).

Want to see more of our Treehouse renovation? You can check out our big kitchen transformation here and our great room here.