My mother stuffed me and 2 of my brothers in one small bedroom with a double bed and a twin bed. The bedroom also had a sloped ceiling, no one could stand up straight where the twin was located. A few years later my father turned a largish closet into a bedroom for my little brother, leaving me with my other brother and the double bed. When I turned 13 I convinced my mother that we needed twin beds, sleeping with my brother was getting weird. When I hit high school, I converted a corner of an unfinished basement into a bedroom for me. About that time my stepfather removed the inside basement stairs to build new stairs to the second floor. I had to go outside to get to the rest of the house after that. One of my sisters thought she had to “lock up” before she went to bed meaning I was locked out of the house. I would have to climb on the roof of the back porch and climb through the bathroom window to get in the house.
Mine was a typical bedroom in a suburban tract house. I had a early American Maple bedroom set. I can’t recall the pictures my parents hung in my bedroom.