The Home You Return To | Interior Design & Wellbeing
On identity, psychological safety and the art of
feeling at home
What makes a house feel like home? Interior designer Michaela Clarke, founder of interior design studio House of Lexden, explores the relationship between our surroundings and our sense of wellbeing with Colchester-based cognitive hypnotherapist Kate Hickmore.
There is a particular moment when we arrive home. The front door closes, the outside world recedes, and we expect something within us to shift. Our shoulders drop. We exhale. We are, finally, somewhere we can be ourselves.
Or at least, that's how it should feel.
Yet some homes never quite offer that sense of relief. They may be beautifully furnished, immaculately presented and filled with carefully chosen objects, but something remains unresolved. We recognise that a room isn't quite right, even when we struggle
to explain why.
As an interior designer, I find this fascinating. Why do certain spaces make us feel immediately comfortable, while others leave us strangely unsettled? Why can a modest room possess extraordinary warmth, while a far more expensive interior feels almost devoid of personality? And what does it actually mean to feel at home?
These questions led me to a conversation with Kate Hickmore, a cognitive hypnotherapist based in Colchester, whose work explores the relationship between our thoughts, behaviours and emotional responses.
Although our professions approach human experience from different directions, we share an interest in how our surroundings influence the way we live. Kate works with the internal landscape. I work with the physical environment. The relationship between the two is more interesting than we might imagine.
The psychology of feeling at home
We tend to think of our homes as places of comfort, familiarity and retreat. Yet their psychological significance extends beyond having somewhere pleasant to sit at the end of the day.
As Kate explains:
Our homes are more than physical spaces. They are the environments that hold our daily lives, our routines, our relationships and the small rituals that make us feel like ourselves.
The familiarity of our surroundings can provide a sense of continuity in an otherwise unpredictable world. Our favourite chair, the way morning light enters the kitchen, the objects we've collected over the years: these things become part of the landscape of our everyday lives.
Kate describes how familiar surroundings and routines can contribute to our sense of psychological safety.
When those familiar cues are disrupted, whether through moving house, renovation or changes in our personal circumstances, we may feel surprisingly unsettled.
It's an interesting distinction, because feeling safe at home isn't necessarily the same as having a home that looks beautiful.
A perfectly styled interior may lack warmth, while a room filled with mismatched furniture and sentimental possessions can feel wonderfully reassuring. For me, this is where thoughtful interior design begins.
Not with a particular style, colour palette or collection of fashionable objects, but with an understanding of the people who inhabit the space. How do they live? What do they value? Where do they naturally gravitate? What makes them feel comfortable? These questions are just as important as the dimensions of a room.
Whose home is it anyway?
One of the most revealing things about working in people's homes is discovering how much influence other people's opinions can have over personal decisions. Clients sometimes know instinctively what they love, only to immediately question whether they should
choose it. Will it date? Is it too dark? Is it fashionable? What will everyone else think?
There is a curious contradiction here.
Our homes are among the most personal environments we inhabit, yet we frequently decorate them with an imaginary audience in mind. We absorb ideas about good taste through magazines, social media, property programmes and the homes of people
around us.
Those influences can be inspiring, but they can also make us question our own preferences.
The result is sometimes a home that looks entirely acceptable but feels
strangely impersonal.
Kate's observations about identity offer an interesting explanation.
Where we live quietly shapes how we see ourselves.
Our surroundings reflect our habits, values and relationships. They can also influence how we behave within a space.
A kitchen designed around gathering naturally encourages people to spend time together. A quiet reading corner creates an opportunity for stillness. A dedicated workspace can make it easier to separate professional responsibilities from home life.
These aren't simply decorative choices. They help shape the way we use our homes.
I often think the most successful interiors are those in which the homeowner has stopped trying to satisfy everyone else. A dark, enveloping room may be exactly what one person needs to feel comfortable. Another may prefer pale walls, natural materials and an abundance of daylight.
Neither is inherently more sophisticated. The intelligence lies in understanding the relationship between the individual, the architecture and the atmosphere they want
to create.
A home should express something about the people who live there, rather than simply demonstrate that they understand the current rules of good taste.
The architecture of atmosphere
Atmosphere is an interesting concept because we recognise it almost immediately, yet often struggle to explain what creates it. We might describe a room as calm, intimate, elegant or welcoming. But those qualities rarely come from a single colour or piece of furniture.
They emerge from the relationship between architectural proportion, natural light, materials, texture, acoustics and the arrangement of space. A beautifully upholstered sofa cannot compensate for a room whose layout fundamentally doesn't work.
Likewise, expensive finishes don't automatically create an atmosphere of luxury.
I believe that successful interiors begin with an understanding of the architecture.
Where does the natural light enter? How does it change throughout the day? How do we move through the room? What should be emphasised, and what should quietly recede?
These are the questions I consider before thinking about decoration.
Lighting is particularly important. Natural light influences our perception of space and changes its character throughout the day. Artificial lighting allows us to respond to those changes, creating different levels of illumination for different activities.
Rather than relying on a single overhead light, I prefer to create layers: architectural lighting, wall lights, table lamps and carefully chosen decorative fittings. The result is a room that can change in character from morning to evening.
Kate's observations about our response to the environment reinforce the importance of considering more than appearance. Our surroundings can influence how comfortable, settled or stimulated we feel. This doesn't mean every home should be quiet, neutral or minimal. Some people find colour, pattern and richly layered interiors energising and deeply comforting. What matters is whether the environment suits the individual.
We don't simply see our surroundings. We experience them.
Why changing our homes can feel so unsettling
There is a contradiction at the heart of many renovation projects. We want our homes to change, but the process of changing them can feel deeply uncomfortable. A home isn't simply a collection of rooms. It contains our routines, memories, possessions and familiar ways of living.
Renovation temporarily disrupts those things. Suddenly, decisions carry financial consequences. Tradespeople enter private spaces. Familiar rooms become building sites. The outcome exists only in drawings, samples and imagination.
Kate explains
For many people the reaction isn't simply about dust or clutter. It is about the temporary loss of the place where we normally regulate ourselves.
It's a perspective that helps explain why even an exciting project can become stressful.
We may be looking forward to the finished result while simultaneously struggling with the disruption required to achieve it.
Kate suggests maintaining familiar routines wherever possible and creating a small area of calm within the home while work is underway. She calls this an anchor space: somewhere that remains relatively ordered and offers a retreat from the activity elsewhere.
It might be a bedroom, a favourite chair or simply a quiet corner with a lamp and somewhere comfortable to sit.
I think this is a particularly useful idea.
From a designer's perspective, it also highlights the importance of understanding the client's experience throughout a project, not simply concentrating on the finished result.
Good design requires careful planning, clear communication and an appreciation of how disruptive the process can be. Some clients enjoy being involved in every decision. Others find the volume of choices overwhelming and prefer a more carefully curated selection.
Neither approach is wrong.
The designer's responsibility is to establish a clear direction, explain the process and help clients make informed decisions. For me, the design process should bring clarity rather than create additional uncertainty.
A beautiful result matters, but so does the experience of getting there.
When our homes no longer reflect who we are
Our lives change, often more quickly than our homes. Children grow older. Careers evolve. Relationships change. Our priorities shift. Yet the environments around us can remain largely unchanged for years.
Sometimes the home that once suited us perfectly no longer reflects the people
we have become.
We may find ourselves surrounded by furniture chosen for a different stage of life, rooms arranged around routines that no longer exist, or design decisions made when our tastes and circumstances were quite different.
Kate describes the relationship between environment and identity:
The way we live in a space starts to reflect the kind of person we believe ourselves to be.
It's an interesting thought.
Our homes don't simply reflect our lives; their arrangement can also encourage particular habits and behaviours. A dining room that is comfortable and inviting may encourage us to entertain more often. A neglected sitting room might remain unused, regardless of how we once loved it.
Redesigning a home can therefore become an opportunity to reconsider not only how a space looks, but how we want to live within it. That doesn't necessarily mean replacing everything.
In fact, some of the most interesting interiors retain meaningful pieces, incorporating them into a new arrangement that feels more appropriate for the present. I love working with existing furniture, artwork and collected objects alongside new materials and bespoke elements. These combinations give a room character and a sense of history.
A home should evolve with the people who live there, rather than becoming a perfectly preserved version of who they once were.
Designing for the life we're actually living
Neither Kate nor I would suggest that a beautifully designed home can resolve life's difficulties. But the environments we inhabit are not simply passive backdrops. They influence our routines, our interactions and the way we experience everyday life.
A poorly considered layout can make ordinary tasks unnecessarily frustrating. Inadequate lighting can limit how comfortably we use a room. A lack of privacy or somewhere quiet to retreat can make a busy household feel even more demanding. Equally, thoughtful design can make everyday life easier.
It can create opportunities for connection, provide spaces for solitude and help a home accommodate the changing needs of the people who live there.
Kate puts it beautifully:
At its core, home is where we restore ourselves.
For me, intelligent interior design begins with understanding what that means for each individual client.
It asks more than whether a room looks beautiful. It asks whether the architecture works, whether the atmosphere feels right and whether the space genuinely supports the people living there. The most successful interiors are rarely those that demand the most attention. They are the ones that seem to understand us.
When you walk through your front door, does your home make you feel the way you want to feel?
A well-designed home should support you quietly. It shouldn't compete with you.
About the contributors
Michaela Clarke | House of Lexden
Michaela is the founder of House of Lexden, an interior design studio creating thoughtful, individual residential interiors across Essex and Suffolk and beyond. Her approach combines architectural understanding, carefully considered lighting, natural materials and a belief that beautiful homes should reflect the personalities and lifestyles of the people who
inhabit them.
Explore House of Lexden's approach to thoughtful, individual interior design.
Kate Hickmore | Cognitive Hypnotherapist
Kate is a Colchester-based cognitive hypnotherapist and NLP Master Practitioner, working with clients across Essex and online. Her work explores the relationship between thoughts, behaviours and emotional wellbeing.
Find out more about Kate's work: Visit Kate Hickmore's website.
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