When I bought my little Vermont cottage, I wasn’t dreaming about a perfect kitchen.
I wasn’t thinking about landscaping.
I wasn’t even thinking about the bathroom.
I was thinking about one room.
My bedroom.
After years of moving, rebuilding, and starting over, I wanted one space that felt completely peaceful.
Boldly feminine.
Comforting.
Beautiful.
A room that reminded me every morning that this little cottage—and this life—was finally mine.
Creating that room turned out to be much more complicated than picking paint colors.
It involved demolition, debt, Facebook Marketplace, a judge’s cabinet, four people, a contractor, my daughter, and more problem-solving than I ever imagined.
But I’d do it all again.
Why Creating a Bedroom Sanctuary Mattered So Much
By the time I found my little Vermont cottage, I was exhausted.
Not just physically.
Emotionally.
Like so many healthcare workers, I was carrying the weight of the pandemic.
I was grieving the loss of one of my dearest friends.
I was recovering from breast cancer.
I had moved more than once after the end of a relationship.
Honestly…
My mind, my body, and my heart had simply had enough.
I’ve always believed home should be a place where you can exhale.
A place to recharge.
A place to feel safe.
For a while, that was all I wanted.
A quiet room where I could rest.
Those first months in the cottage, sleep came and went.
Some nights I slept peacefully.
Other nights I found myself awake at three in the morning, especially during a full moon.
Instead of lying there frustrated, I’d quietly slip outside and sit with my back against the cottage.
The stars.
The moon.
The towering Vermont trees.
Those quiet moments slowly brought me back to myself.
Somewhere along the way, I realized this small cottage bedroom wasn’t just another renovation project.
It was part of my healing.
It was time to stop waiting.
So I grabbed a hammer, a pry bar, and started my very first room demolition.
If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you already know my philosophy.
The first wall came down.
Then another.
Behind the old paneling I found drywall.
Then another layer of drywall.
Apparently every previous homeowner believed the solution was simply another wall.
As the room disappeared around me, something unexpected happened.
I felt lighter.
Every load of debris hauled to the transfer station.
Every contractor bag filled with old insulation.
Every dusty trip in my little SUV.
It all felt like I was clearing away more than sixty-five years of building materials.
I was making room for something new.
Finally, the room stood completely bare.
Just rough framing.
Old boards.
Possibility.
For the first time since buying the cottage, I could truly picture what it would become.
Not just a renovated bedroom.
A sanctuary.
A place that finally felt like home.
Building a Bedroom Sanctuary Takes Patience
One of the hardest parts of renovating a home alone wasn’t choosing wallpaper or paint colors.
It was finding dependable help.
Living in rural Vermont has so many advantages.
Finding a contractor quickly isn’t usually one of them.
I’m comfortable tackling a lot of projects myself, but I also know when it’s time to call in someone with more experience. Installing larger windows, framing new openings, and insulating the room properly weren’t corners I wanted to cut.
Those are the kinds of improvements that should last for decades.
I eventually found a local carpenter who believed in my vision for the room.
Progress wasn’t always fast.
There were moments I wondered if winter would arrive before I had walls again.
But little by little…
The windows went in.
The insulation was finished.
Fresh drywall covered the bare framing.
The room was finally ready for my favorite part.
Creating the sanctuary I’d been imagining all along.
Looking back, I learned that home renovations rarely happen on the timeline you expect.
Sometimes they happen on the timeline they’re supposed to.
Making a Tiny Cottage Bedroom Feel Bigger
One of my biggest goals for this small cottage bedroom remodel wasn’t just to make it beautiful.
It was to make it work better.
In a 520-square-foot cottage, every inch matters.
Originally, both bedroom doors swung out into the living room, taking up valuable wall space and making the house feel more cramped than it needed to.
Almost immediately I knew pocket doors were the answer.
Now I just needed the doors.
One weekend my daughter and I were driving through Weston when we spotted several old doors leaning against an antique building with a handwritten sign that simply read:
FREE.
If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you already know I keep a tape measure in my car.
You just never know.
Two of the doors were almost exactly the size I needed.
Solid wood.
Probably close to a hundred years old.
Full of character.
I knew they belonged in my little Vermont cottage.
They were covered in layers of old paint, but underneath I imagined beautiful raw pine waiting to be uncovered.
I tried stripping them myself.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Then my neighbor Lou came to the rescue.
“I can strip the doors,” he texted.
A couple of weeks later he brought them back, and they were exactly as I’d pictured them.
Warm.
Scrubbed pine.
Simple.
Timeless.
They looked like they’d always belonged here.
Sometimes the best decorating decisions aren’t the expensive ones.
Sometimes they’re the ones with the best stories.
Sometimes You Just Have to Figure It Out
Installing the pocket door frame itself turned out to be surprisingly straightforward since the walls were already open.
I picked up an inexpensive pocket door kit, removed part of the existing framing, and my friend Mike helped me install everything.
Or so we thought.
After he left, I stood back and realized something wasn’t quite right.
The new door sat lower than the door on the other bedroom.
Now… I could have ignored it.
But once you see something like that, you can’t unsee it.
So I pulled up my big girl panties, took the entire thing apart by myself, raised the header with another 2×4, reinstalled the pocket door frame, and somehow wrestled that heavy old door back onto the track.
Getting it back on wasn’t exactly graceful, but after a few choice words, a little patience, and several attempts…
Success.
Moments like that remind me that confidence doesn’t usually show up first.
Sometimes confidence arrives after you’ve already figured it out.
Bigger Windows, Bigger Dreams
One of the biggest changes in my bedroom renovation had nothing to do with paint or wallpaper.
It was light.
The original bedroom had tiny sliding windows that had probably been installed decades ago. Those same little windows were also over my kitchen sink and in the second bedroom.
They let in enough light to get by.
But not enough to truly enjoy living surrounded by the woods.
One of the reasons I bought this Vermont cottage was because of the beautiful property.
I wanted to wake up with the sunrise.
I wanted to see the trees.
I wanted every season to feel like artwork hanging outside my windows.
I purchased two new windows from Home Depot—an awning window above the bed and a much larger double-hung window on the south side of the room.
Watching my contractor cut a giant hole in the side of my house with a Sawzall definitely tested my nerves.
I remember thinking…
“Well… there’s no turning back now.”
Fortunately, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Within a couple of days the new windows were installed, insulated, and trimmed.
My favorite part wasn’t watching them go in.
It was peeling away the protective plastic film.
If you’ve ever installed new windows, you know exactly what I mean.
Suddenly…
The room was flooded with natural light.
The trees felt closer.
The room looked larger.
And for the first time, I could imagine waking up every morning with the Vermont woods just outside my window.
It was exactly what I had hoped for.
Building the Foundation of My Sanctuary
With the framing complete, it was finally time to close the walls back up.
Fresh insulation filled every cavity, making the room quieter, warmer, and far more energy efficient than it had been in 1958.
New drywall replaced decades of layered paneling and patchwork repairs, creating a clean canvas for everything that would come next.
The old flooring told its own story.
Underneath the worn peel-and-stick carpet tiles was another surprise—a layer of the original 1958 peel-and-stick linoleum.
Like so many older homes, every previous owner had simply built on top of what came before.
It felt fitting to strip everything back and begin again.
I installed Pergo engineered hardwood flooring throughout the bedroom, creating a warm, timeless foundation that flowed beautifully with the rest of the cottage.
Little by little…
The room was no longer a construction project.
It was becoming my sanctuary.
The Judge’s Cabinet That Almost Didn’t Fit
When I first started planning this small cottage bedroom, I imagined building closets on either side of the bed, almost like you’d find on a sailboat or in an RV.
Then Facebook Marketplace changed everything.
One afternoon I stumbled across an old judge’s cabinet—a tall wooden wardrobe once used to store a judge’s robes.
It was beautiful.
Full of character.
Exactly the kind of piece I love.
The gentleman selling it was just as memorable as the cabinet itself. As he described it, he paused for a second before saying,
“It was where he… or she… would keep their robes.”
I smiled and thanked him for correcting himself.
Those little moments matter.
Getting the cabinet home was easy enough.
I always keep my old surfboard straps in the car because… well… you never know what treasure you’re going to find.
Getting it into the house was another story.
In my usual independent-woman fog, I was convinced I could wrestle it inside myself.
Reality disagreed.
Thankfully, my neighbor Lou came to the rescue.
The cabinet slid through the front door without much trouble.
Then we carried it into the bedroom.
Or at least we tried.
When we tipped it upright…
Thunk.
The ceiling.
Apparently, I never considered that a cabinet has to stand up after it goes through the doorway.
Geometry has never been my strongest subject.
I thanked Lou for his help, slid the cabinet against the living room wall, and stared at it for a while.
I should probably have a degree in problem-solving by now.
Eventually I called my favorite engineer, Sharon.
During a FaceTime call, she patiently walked me through the measurements.
There was only one solution.
The legs had to come off.
I’ll admit…
I mourned those legs a little.
By now you’re probably wondering…
How many people does it take to move one judge’s cabinet into a tiny Vermont cottage?
The answer is four.
Lou.
Sharon.
Mike.
And me.
Mike was ready to cut off all four legs.
I wasn’t.
Those beautifully integrated front legs were part of the cabinet’s charm.
So we came up with another plan.
We removed only the back legs, carefully maneuvered the cabinet into the bedroom, and then reattached them using dowel screws.
Mike has always been wonderful about listening to my ideas instead of dismissing them.
Again…
Not all men.
When we finally stood the cabinet upright in its new home…
It fit.
Perfectly.
The old judge’s cabinet that almost defeated us had become my modest little closet.
And honestly…
I love it even more because of the story it carries.
My Daughter’s Gift
Before I even bought the house, my daughter insisted on buying my mattress.
She knew this wasn’t just another move.
She knew I wasn’t simply changing addresses.
I was starting over.
She also knows me well enough to know that my bedroom has always been my refuge. It’s where I go to recharge after long days as a physical therapist assistant, where I think, dream, and sometimes just hide away from the world for a little while. She wanted to give me one piece of this new life that would bring me comfort from the very first night.
I remember telling her she didn’t have to do that.
A mattress isn’t exactly an inexpensive housewarming gift.
But she wouldn’t hear of it.
She wanted to be part of creating my sanctuary.
As a mom, there are moments that quietly stop you in your tracks. This was one of them. Watching your child become such a thoughtful, generous adult is one of life’s greatest gifts. In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the mattress nearly as much as I was thinking, “I must have done something right.”
Every night when I climb into bed, I still think about that gift.
Not because it’s a nice mattress.
Because it’s a daily reminder that this room wasn’t built by me alone.
It was built with encouragement, kindness, and the love of the people who wanted to see me find peace again.
Some gifts never stop giving.
This is one of them.
A Lady Lives Here
Once the drywall was finished and the walls were painted a fresh, clean white, the room finally stopped looking like a construction project.
It felt like possibility.
This was the part I’d been dreaming about for months.
The decorating.
For years I had collected inspiration photos of cottage bedrooms that felt soft, artistic, and unmistakably feminine. I didn’t want beige. I didn’t want trendy.
I wanted a room that quietly announced…
“A lady lives here.”
That meant taking a few risks.
I chose Wall Blush’s Mariposa Hand Painted Floral Wallpaper because it felt less like wallpaper and more like a mural. Every flower looked as though someone had painted it by hand. It was bold enough to become the focal point of the room while still feeling soft and romantic.
Even better…
I didn’t have to ask anyone else’s opinion.
For most of my adult life, decorating involved compromise.
This room didn’t.
I didn’t ask if the wallpaper was too feminine.
I didn’t ask if the flowers were too big.
I simply chose what made me smile.
My daughter came over one weekend and helped me install it.
I treasure that memory almost as much as I treasure the finished room.
Of course…
It wouldn’t be one of my projects without at least one mistake.
Originally I had planned built-in cabinets on either side of the bed, so I only ordered enough wallpaper to cover the visible walls.
Plans changed.
The cabinets never happened.
Which meant…
I had to order more wallpaper.
Unfortunately it came from a different print run, and if you look closely, I can still see where the patterns don’t line up perfectly.
Everyone tells me I’m the only one who notices.
They’re probably right.
It’s just another reminder that homes, like people, don’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.
The Room I Always Needed
Sometimes people ask me what my favorite renovation has been.
It’s this room.
Not because it’s perfect.
Not because it’s expensive.
Because it reminds me every morning that peace isn’t something we stumble into.
Sometimes we build it.
One wall.
One window.
One decision at a time.
A few links to products that pulled this bedroom together. I may earn a small commission if you purchase through these links.
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