Big Adjustments and Harsh Realizations

I'm adjusting.

Recently, I moved out of my roomy, 1 bed apartment into a shared household and a smallish blue room and now, I'm feeling the labor pains of squeezing both my physical self (and all it's various material extensions) and my energetic self into a much smaller space. I'm also having to negotiate my place on the hierarchical rungs of my new home. See, I live with the owners of the house, which in my experience, does not lend itself easily to the egalitarian ideal. No matter how anti-authoritarian and communally minded said owners may be, the cultural concept of ownership usually subverts the best of equalitarian intentions. Just like the territorial spats that are frequenting the lives of my two cats and the other animals of the house, I am acutely feeling the stubborn pressure of people having to create space for me. Space which they occupied previously, and didn't have to share or stretch or compromise on. I sincerely hope that they actually want to share this space, no matter how painful it may be for them to relinquish it, because I sincerely want to feel welcome, cherished, and wanted by those I co-habitate with. I want a home, a place of solitude and sanctuary, a place to freely express myself, my needs, and my ideas, a place to connect with others and feel a part of something real.
Over this first week and a half of living at my new place, I'm finding a mix of feelings ranging from disappointment, uncertainty, self-doubt, defensiveness, joy, relief, and connection.
I've really been enjoying living with kids. I wasn't sure how I'd react to it, but I'm finding that little people bring such a refreshing energy into a living space, a newness and a rawness, which cynical adults can't seem to muster quite so often. I'm interested to see how my relationship with the kids will progress as I continue living in their midst. I'm also finding that simply having others around is making me more productive, and I don't feel so isolated. That's definitely something I missed while living alone, where I cloistered myself from the world, communing with my personal demons and considering various universal conundrums.
Unfortunately, I've also had some harsh realizations. A big one being that I neglected to truly consider the physical creative space that I require to pursue my art. My new house is extremely ill-equipt for the things I want to do. I don't have any real space for messy and/or long term projects like mask-making and costume building. I also feel a little more inhibited when it comes to experimenting musically, especially in the later hours of the evening. While I'm disappointed in myself for not considering my desires more closely, my self-neglect also incites a question about my real needs for space. Looking at myself clearly, in an undeluded and painfully honest sort of way, I can see that I subconsciously ignored my need for creative space because it is a need that is based on the dream of Mlle. Nova as an artist. What I mean is, my desire for a certain type of creative space is based on a vision of my future self, a self which resides in the realm of ideals and dreams, not in current reality. I am not yet the artist I fancy myself to be. I only need specific creative space when I actually commit to doing the work. When that happens, perhaps I will move, or find an art studio or some other arrangement conducive to achieving my goals.
My challenge here is making the best of what I have, by letting the restrictions of the physical and energetic space that I currently occupy, inspire creative action in and of itself. If it is art that I truly need to pursue (and in my best moments, I can honestly say that it absolutely is) then I will find a way to make it happen, in this very moment, against all odds.