When the Dollhouse Never Became a Playground

Relearning How to Slow Down, Settle In, and Let Yourself Enjoy Life

As a little girl, my siblings and I had a dollhouse. I still remember the way it pulled me in — not just as a toy, but as a tiny world of possibility. I’d carefully arrange every room: the miniature beds placed just right, the dining room table set out, the tiny chairs angled as if a family had just pulled them closer for conversation.

Setting it up was my ritual. My quiet joy. It was the space where my imagination stretched awake.

But right when it was finally time to play, time to bring the story to life…I’d hear a voice that shattered the moment:

“Clean up your mess.”

“Let’s go — I need you to do chores.”

Every time.

Before I ever got to enjoy what I built, it had to be undone.

The script became: Preparation matters. Play does not.

Somewhere along the line, that became a belief about life itself.

The Childhood Code We Don’t Realize We’re Carrying

When you’re consistently interrupted before you can experience joy, curiosity, or ease, your nervous system learns a rule: Play is not safe. Rest is not productive. Fun is not the point.

As a child, I was wired to be helpful, efficient, useful, prepared — always ready to pivot to the next task someone else needed from me. The dollhouse became a metaphor I didn’t understand until adulthood:

I could set up the space. I could create the systems. I could plan, prepare, organize, and arrange.

But I could not play.

Fast-forward to grown-up me:

I rearrange my home office. I plan my writing routine. I design workflows. I brainstorm joy-filled habits.

Then? I fill the time with tasks. Or “shoulds.”

I let other responsibilities rush in. I clean up the moment before I enjoy it.

I still set up the dollhouse — never stepping fully into the life I’m dreaming of.

It’s like my wiring still assumes that enjoyment is optional… and productivity is the only acceptable posture.

When Childhood Nurturing Meets Adult Reality

For some of us, the home we grew up in simply didn’t make space for rest, imagination, or unstructured delight. We learned to be hyper-aware of other people’s needs. We internalized the idea that stillness is irresponsible, and fun is frivolous.

So now, as adults, “play” feels foreign.

We don’t trust it.

We don’t schedule it.

We certainly don’t prioritize it.

Instead, we:

• rearrange the living room instead of pausing to read

• meal-prep efficiently but forget to sit down and savor

• organize our desk and never write the story

• plan adventures but cancel the date

• make vision boards but downshift into survival mode before we take the first step

We set the scene.

We never live inside it.

It’s not laziness.

It’s not lack of desire.

It’s conditioning.

Long-formed neural patterns that say: Be useful. Be available. Stay alert. Earn your joy.

So What Happens If the Dollhouse Gets to Stay?

Here’s the truth I’m unlearning:

Joy is not the reward at the end of productivity. Play is not something you have to earn.

Rest is not irresponsible. Delight is not selfish.

My inner child deserved time to play. So does the adult version of me.

Our nervous systems can learn this. Our habits can shift.

We can build a life where the dollhouse doesn’t have to be packed away before it ever gets used.

Coaching Prompts for Reclaiming Play

If this resonates with you — if you, too, learned to clean up the moment before you lived in it — here are some gentle prompts to begin rewiring that story:

1. What did play look like for you as a child?

• Were you allowed to linger in imagination?

• Did you feel rushed, interrupted, or responsible?

2. What beliefs did you quietly absorb about rest, joy, or fun?

Finish this sentence:

“Play is ________.” Or: “I can only relax when ________.”

3. Where do you see this pattern showing up now?

• Do you over-prepare instead of begin?

• Do you fix spaces instead of inhabit them?

• Do you plan joy instead of receive it?
  

4. What tiny type of play feels safe to try again?

• Five minutes of drawing?

• Stepping outside with bare feet?

• Coloring?

• Sitting with a cup of tea and no phone?

Choose something small. Simple. Un-performative. Purely because it makes you smile.

5. How can you leave the dollhouse out a little longer?

This might mean:

• Sitting in your perfectly set up room and soaking it in

• Reading the book you organized a nook for

• Cooking a meal and actually savoring the bites

• Playing music instead of sorting tasks

Fun is not the waste. Fun is the purpose.

A Practical Challenge

This week, pick one thing you’ve prepared for but never actually enjoyed — and go do it.

Not after the chores. Not only if your to-do list is spotless.

Just because your life deserves pleasure, too.

Let the scene you’ve set become a moment you live.

Let the dollhouse stay. Let your imagination breathe. Let play be part of who you’re becoming.

Because healing isn’t only about fixing what hurt you —sometimes it’s about giving yourself what you never got the chance to experience in the first place.