I spend far too much time thinking about how imperfect my house looks and searching for ways to improve upon it to make it look… prettier, I guess. It’s easy to feel like things need fixed up, improved, or updated when looking at the beautiful homes and decor of others. And it’s easy to feel as though mine isn’t good enough.
My mom always wanted her house (and, consequently, our bedrooms) to look “magazine perfect” – a place for everything, and everything in its place. And it’s something I’ve fought with myself about, feeling as though my house needed to live up to someone else’s standards. Feeling as though my place isn’t as worthy to show off because I don’t have the same amazing style as some bloggers I admire. Feeling like friends who come over will judge the hell out of me if things aren’t picture-perfect.
Then reality hit me today that I’m much too hard on myself. After all, some of my favorite blogs are ones that sometimes picture pieces of there homes that are obviously lived in. Not magazine perfect. Lived in. Which, to me, is the whole meaning of a “home.” If things are too perfect, too… magazine-like, then it feels more like a museum to me than a home.
There’s beauty in a bit of chaos, and a coziness, too.
