I’ve always found solace in the familiar four walls of my room. It was my non-negotiable study space, complete with my desk, a comfy chair, a heating pad, a familiar view and the perfect combination of stillness and solitude. It was predictable and cozy. I could control my space, my surroundings and my productivity. Or so I thought.
It hit me this year, amid bouts of frustration over my stagnant study habits, that maybe I was too comfortable. My room had become my security blanket — too familiar and filled with distractions. The predictability of my surroundings was draining my motivation, leaving me restless.
Boredom was frequent, even amidst the stress of self-imposed busyness. I would open my laptop to study, but time slipped away as I mindlessly clicked through social media, searching for a spark of inspiration that never came. Every attempt to study felt like a reminder of how stuck I was — in a cage of my own making. I was missing out on the world around me — the buzz of campus, the discovery of new environments and the energy of shared spaces.
I remember discussing my fear of studying outside my room with my dad. I told him how every place made me feel uncomfortable, how I felt eyes on me at all times even though everyone’s in their own world, how every day my single became even more unproductive. I told him that my self-consciousness was running wild and that it didn’t help that it’s so easy to give into the temptation of laying in bed with no roommate around. He proposed that I study somewhere I was familiar with, and I knew just the spot (though it’s not your typical study setting).
A few weeks before, my friend and I took our laptops out on the second floor of WU after dinner. Since eating together at WU was a part of my routine, I was comfortable enough to get work done there. As someone who thrives on background noise, I found the environment calming and aesthetically pleasing, too. So I decided this was the place I’d go back to — alone.
The moment I sat down at a table near the large windows, I felt a bit of that familiar discomfort creeping in — my mind racing with thoughts of people noticing me. But, as I got to work, I slowly started to relax. The hum of conversation, the clatter of keyboards and the rustling of papers grounded me. The more I focused on my work, the less I noticed the people around me.
When I finally packed up to leave, I was struck by how productive I'd been. It turns out, I didn’t need a “perfect” little nook to get things done — I just needed to let go of the fear of being observed. Stepping outside my comfort zone has never been a one-time decision, but rather a series of small, intentional choices that gradually make me more open to change.
As I packed my bag each morning, I grabbed my emotional-support items — headphones, chapstick and my favorite chocolate-covered pretzels. Then, I picked a study spot that mirrored the comfort of my dorm — a quiet corner in the Link, a secluded spot in the Carpenter Reading Room — a space where I didn’t feel so out of place. After a few months, I became comfortable studying in these places, giving me the much-needed boost of confidence to explore the rest of campus.
My desire to not miss out on the college campus experience now outweighed my fear of exploring new places, and so began my journey exploring West Campus. I wandered through buildings I’d been in but never studied in, like the Wellness Center, where the mix of soothing spaces and scattered piano notes made for a place too relaxing to focus. I found myself visiting a friend in the Gothic Reading Room, but the quiet felt judgmental — I was afraid to sneeze.
Each time I studied somewhere new, I took note of how the environment made me feel — was I productive or distracted? Anxious or relaxed? I began to refine what worked for me and let go of the places that didn’t serve me. At first, the thought of studying anywhere but my room felt like a chore, but as I kept at it, I started to see each new spot as an opportunity, not an obligation. These days, studying outside my room feels natural, and my single is simply my bedroom — nothing more.
We spend so much time studying we might as well choose a spot that makes it a tiny bit more enjoyable. If fear is holding you back from that, take it one step at a time: start with a place that's comfortable for you. And, if you need some inspiration, I've curated a list of five spaces that might just suit your preferences.
For those looking for peace & quiet: the Link
The Link’s futuristic setup almost makes you feel like you’re in a sci-fi movie scene. It’s functional, sterile even, but it’s perfect for laser-focused work sessions. There’s minimal distraction and it feels a bit disconnected from reality, so it’s easy to lose track of time. When I need to immerse myself in a project in the wee hours of the morning, this place delivers.
A romantic café feel: WU Second Floor
If my study life were a college rom-com, the WU 2nd Floor would be the cozy, late-night coffee shop where I (the protagonist) cram for finals while sipping her tea. The intimate, social vibe has just enough background noise to feel like you're part of something. It’s cozy without feeling confining and, as someone who used to step into shared spaces with caution, the low-pressure, welcoming atmosphere made the transition surprisingly easy. (Other cafés I enjoy: Twinnie’s, Zwelli’s and Vondy.)
For the gym-goers: Wilson Gym
You might be thinking, “What the hell? What kind of study space is a gym?” But trust me when I say Wilson is drastically underrated. The rhythmic beats of feet tapping on the treadmills will put you in a trance. It’s the perfect place to get work done after a workout. Side note: It’s typically on the cooler side so I always bring a hoodie. Wilson has a comforting consistency that balances my craving for familiarity with a refreshing change of scenery.
For those with claustrophobia: Bostock and Perkins Bridge
The bridge between Bostock and Perkins on the 3rd floor holds an airy, light-filled atmosphere. The open setup and the natural light give it a fresh, unboxed feel that inspires me to work. You’ll likely catch me here, hot cocoa from Vondy café in hand, as I attempt to tackle my to-do list. Something about studying beside the huge windows feels expansive, as though I’m finally breaking free from the mental walls that held me back in my room.
For those who need couches: Carpenter Reading Room
The Carpenter Reading Room is what I imagine an ideal study spot to look like — wood-paneled walls, old couches and natural light flooding in. It’s quiet but not overly formal, and the couches make for a comfy change from the standard study desk. Here, I’ve found my middle ground: It’s comfortable without making me too comfortable and quiet without the silence feeling oppressive. It’s truly the little alcove I’ve always craved. (For the upperclassmen: Keohane 4E’s lobby also has an abundance of couches to sprawl on for lengthy reading sessions.)
Here are my honorable mentions: the Edge (beautiful views), Sanford staircase balconies, Grainger Hall conference rooms and the Fuqua library (low-key prettier than Perkins — although you’ll have to bribe a grad student to get in).
If you’re still feeling too anxious to leave the comfort of your room, I recommend starting with LifeAt.io. The site lets you view recordings of study spaces ranging from cafés to libraries and cityscapes. Whenever I hear the background noise of NYC, I’m instantly in focus mode, just like lo-fi, jazz or classical might do for others.
But if you’re willing to give this experiment a try, go for it! Even if it means stepping into unfamiliar places or adjusting to minor discomforts at first. In the end, breaking out of my room freed me from more than just walls — it freed me from routines that no longer served me and helped me experience the beauty of Duke.
Valentina Garbelotto is a Trinity junior. Her column, “Dear comfort zone: It’s not me, it’s you. Time to break up…”, typically runs on alternate Thursdays.
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