Two days ago while cleaning out my closet, I found the instructions for a lava lamp, a piece of my childhood that I got rid of long ago in a yard sale. Lamps were a big thing when I was little. I had the purple lava lamp, a red twirling “siren” lamp, even a lamp that tossed rainbow-colored lights onto a whirling string (and is hard to explain). As an adult, I’ve collected mid-century modern lamps, lamps of unusual shapes and sizes, swag lamps and chandeliers that I used at my dance studio and old home, The Big House.

There’s always been something about the light.

When I had my estate sale, most of my lamps and chandeliers found new homes. Two lamps I couldn’t part with, however, are now in my newly redecorated room. Three chandeliers and three swag lamps I kept by default–they didn’t sell. For over a year now, they’ve been collecting dust in my parents’ garage, and no one on Craigslist or Facebook has wanted to pay what I’m asking. So I’ve been working on getting them inside the house this week. One at a time I’ve been cleaning them up, and if I haven’t been able to use them in my room (there’s only so much space in here), I’ve been hanging them in a spare closet.

This is something I’ve been hesitant to do. For the last year, anytime I’ve seen the chandeliers in the garage, part of me has wished they were gone. It took a lot to have that big sale, and their being around has served as a reminder of all the things that I no longer have, the place I called home for three years where I no longer live. Still, I’ve been making peace with where I am and have recently thought, At least for now, Marcus, these lamps belong to you, so let’s use them and take care of them.

In the process of cleaning up my lights this afternoon, I decided to hang one in my room. Because of the way it’s constructed, I didn’t think it would work at first, but my dad encouraged me to try, and it did. (Thanks, Dad.) Anyway, it’s antique–French, I think–with a heavy alabaster shade and a handful of hanging crystals. Atop two gargoyles have been attached. They’re not old, but they have that feel. I originally found this chandelier on eBay after days of searching for gargoyle lights. I just got obsessed over them because of their history and what they represent.

Technically, “gargoyle” means “spout,” as they were often used to decorate drain pipes in medieval architecture. However, depending on the history you read, gargoyles were also seen as guards and were placed on churches to keep evil spirits away. (What demon would want to go near something so ugly?) Plus, there’s something about them representing our shadow, that dark part of ourselves that we push away to the corners and refuse to look at or dance with. What with all my work in therapy, I figured gargoyles were the perfect creature to have around, a symbolic gesture that I was willing to embrace all aspects of myself–the good, the bad, the ugly.

For me, decorating is quite psychological.

As gargoyles can be thought of as guards, I named the two gargoyles atop my chandelier Edward and Bronius, both titles that mean “protector.” I don’t honestly believe that they kept me safe while living in The Big House, but I also never had a problem while the three of us resided there. (I’m just saying.) Plus, this is something I like to do, name my inanimate objects, especially the ones with faces. It makes my world seem more personal, more magical. I realize I’m almost forty, but–

why should I have to stop imagining?

So now Edward and Bronius watch over my bedroom. A few of their crystals broke, apparently, while being moved, but–so what?–life isn’t perfect. And whereas all my favorite lamps and lights used to be spread throughout one big house, now they’re concentrated in one single bedroom–mine. I’m surrounded by their light–the light–and I love it. Maybe more now than before, since I’d mentally “lost” some of these objects, and now they’re “found.” This is the way I’ve come to think about myself–lost and now found–not because of some religious experience, but rather because I’m learning to love all parts of myself, to feel protected and at home here, in me, where the light and the dark dance together.