White, bright & unrelenting: Amelia Wilson on her not-so-lovely Brisbane childhood home
"It was a small but lovely home, but the way I felt inside that house was unhappy, unsafe, and trapped."
This is a home stories interview, where I feature artists and writers who were shaped by their childhood homes. Today’s interview is with from , a newsletter about infusing more joy and fun into everyday life.
When I saw the headline The Secrets of Happy Families: the 5 most important lessons from my difficult childhood, how could I not click it?
The link led me to Amelia Wilson, an Australian writer based in the Hudson Valley. Her description of her childhood bedroom, where she sought refuge from her parents’ constant arguing, struck a chord. Like a young librarian, she organized and re-organized her books. I too spent hours with my books and writing my little stories, seeking solace from the chaos around me.
As kids, we have little control over our home environments. Yet, Amelia’s perspective offers a powerful message: we can break generational patterns. We can build happier, healthier families by creating homes that are not only psychologically safe and nurturing, but also cozy and comfortable. We can try to give our kids the childhood homes we wish we had.
Describe your childhood home in three words
Bright, white, unrelenting.
What did it look like?
I grew up in a modern and stylish house: it was one-story, with an open-plan design, glossy white ceramic floor tile, and expansive windows everywhere. There were no dark, quiet, soft corners to retreat to, and I always felt exposed.
It’s interesting, because technically it was a small but lovely home, with 4 bedrooms, 2 baths, a nice garden, and a swimming pool (as most homes in subtropical Brisbane, Australia, have), but the way I felt inside that house was unhappy, unsafe, and trapped.
What was your family situation like when you lived there?
I lived in the house with my parents, younger sister, and several cats. My parents remain married to this day but fought constantly with each other. My sister and I were beaten regularly by my father while our mother stood by. When I think of that house, I remember feeling miserable, sad and alone, and wishing I lived somewhere different, with a different family. I moved out when I was 19.
What is one room or space that remains the most vivid in your memory?
My bedroom. It was my sanctuary, where I kept my favorite books, which I loved to organize (and reorganize) by title and topic. I had a single bed which was beside a wall of glass: part of which was a sliding door to a small walled garden courtyard planted with pink azaleas outside. There were also glass louvers that were kept open in the summer heat. There was an overhead fan and carpet on the floor, which was different from the rest of the house, which had tiled white floors.
I loved arranging my books, as well as postcards and mantras, which I pinned to a noticeboard in my room. As a child, I loved to write fanciful stories about my future life, imagining I would be rescued by a handsome prince and would become a world-famous actress; but I learned at a young age not to tell anyone (especially my parents) what my hopes and dreams were because they would ridicule them and lecture me about what I could and couldn’t do. So I hid my precious stories under my bed.
As a child, I loved to write fanciful stories about my future life, imagining I would be rescued by a handsome prince and would become a world-famous actress; but I learned at a young age not to tell anyone (especially my parents) what my hopes and dreams were because they would ridicule them. So I hid my precious stories under my bed.
What’s one object from your childhood home that you wish you still had?
Nothing! I feel pure relief that I no longer live in that house and don’t particularly want reminders.
How did living in that home influence who you are today?
I envied my friends whose bedrooms were on a different floor from their parents, and I fantasized about the cozy dens and eat-in kitchens on TV sitcoms. I’ve created a home for my family that is the opposite of my parents’ house: it’s got the cozy, soft corners I dreamed of; a huge comfortable sofa for watching TV; every light and lamp is on a dimmer–and I live on the other side of the world, in a completely different climate, in the Hudson Valley countryside.
About Amelia Wilson
I write Some Happy Scribbles, a weekly newsletter packed with genius ideas and wise advice for infusing more joy, delight, and fun into everyday life. It has been featured in Cup of Jo, Culture Study, Emily Ley’s Substack, Modern Mrs Darcy, and more.
I’ve been a student of happiness ever since I was 10 years old, when I read Pollyanna and adopted her “glad game” to find tiny pockets of joy amidst my chaotic and unhappy home life in Australia.
A few years later, upon discovering the meaning of ameliorate, the root of my name, I decided that my mission would be to make things better. Becoming a lawyer seemed like a good way to do this but it didn’t stick. In my early twenties, I left Australia to work in London and New York at financial services and nonprofit organizations, including Goldman Sachs and StoryCorps, managing complex global projects, and raising money to finance ambitious goals. In 2022, I launched Some Happy Scribbles to share practical happiness strategies and advice for living a more satisfying, joy-filled (and fun!) life.
A self-described part-time introvert, I love chatting at parties (providing they start early!) equally as much as curling up on the sofa with a good book or to watch a great show. Some other things I’m passionate about: playing racquet sports, cooking, dining out, and entertaining; and learning about other people and cultures through traveling. I live in beautiful, bucolic Dutchess County, New York with my husband, two children, two dogs, and six chickens.
More home stories
Old, loving & creaky: Danielle Hayden on the 1904 Detroit red duplex
Torched. Still Here. Rebecca Kuder on 318 West South College Street
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Wonderful piece.
Great post! I can relate with a childhood home where I felt “unhappy, unsafe, and trapped.”