Ever had one of those moments in your life when you stop and catch yourself, and think, “What the hell am I doing?” Well, this was one of those moments.
A couple of years ago, I was invited to my lovely friend’s house for dinner. I love going to her house. She’s Scandinavian and has travelled a lot; her furniture, art, and lights are gorgeous and unique, and her collection of colourful glass vases mesmerises me every time I see them.
My contribution to the evening was to bring a side dish. I made my favourite, a goat’s cheese and pomegranate salad, using my bestest bowl, a 40th birthday gift from my husband.
The evening was fun, and as I was leaving, rather than searching through the piles of crockery for my bowl, I said I’d collect it another time.
Fast forward two days. I was upstairs at home, and I heard the doorbell. I assumed it was a parcel and they’d leave it by the door, so I didn’t rush to get it. When I did come back downstairs, I walked into my kitchen to see my friend standing there with my bowl.
“I was passing, so I thought I’d drop off your bowl.”
Panic set in!
My husband, who is clearly a normal person, had let her in and not kept her at the doorstep, as I, clearly a deranged person, would have. But honestly, who unexpectedly drops in these days? It felt as alien to me as someone calling the landline for a chat.
Horrified, I looked around my kitchen. The clothes dryer was erect with my underwear very visible on the top rack. The sink was bursting at the seams with dirty plates, cups, and bowls. The worktop looked like we’d had a party the night before, with the number of glasses lined up. The table was covered in my daughter’s latest craft project, and empty sweet wrappers were strewn over the sofa.
My lovely friend, who’d never been to my house before, handed me the bowl and looked around the room and said,
“Oh gosh, your home is lovely.”
I, of course, went on to point out the list of misdemeanours, apologising profusely, and then I’m embarrassed to admit. I walked her to the front door, opened it, and guided her out. No offer of a cuppa, no gushing thank you for the safe return of my bowl, just the door nearly hitting her on the way out.
After she’d gone, there was no hiding from myself. What the hell was that all about? I felt like such an idiot. Would she really have cared that much about the mess? No, would be the answer. She has four kids, and I’m sure she didn’t see anything that didn’t happen daily in her home.
What would have happened if I had offered her that cup of tea and, rather than showing her the door, I’d shown her a seat instead? Well, for a start, nothing bad! My friend wouldn’t suddenly ‘break friends’ with me after seeing my pants drying or dirty plates.
Looking back, I don’t think she judged me at all. She just wanted to see me, and she also knew the bowl was special to me and wanted to return it safely. But I was so busy comparing my home to hers, I couldn’t see that. I was worried it wasn’t good enough. I let my idea of a perfect life stop me from living my actual life.
As humans, we need meaningful connections, and inviting people or animals into our homes should feel natural and fun. We shouldn’t let a little mess or the feeling that the house isn’t quite ready stop us. I love this picture of Callie Coles’ kitchen. Children, a pony, chickens and a dog, free to happily roam her home. Allowing her life to do its thing without trying too hard to manage or control it.
I’m not saying we should all have ponies in our kitchens, but the bar for our homes keeps getting higher, even unachievable. The unrealistic pressure to pretend the realness of our lives doesn’t happen, that we live in a home where no one really lives.
Which is hilarious, as we all eat, go to the toilet, sleep, make clothes dirty, and forget to bring our cups to the sink. Let’s stop pretending we don’t.
The reality of maintaining the illusion, hiding our true lives behind meticulous curation, might be good to look at, but it doesn’t feel so good to live in. Keeping a home looking perfect is hard work and stressful. The anxiety it induces will overshadow the calm, together home you’re hoping for.
Enough is enough. I’m calling time on trying to keep up with the latest made-up trends, and to be permanently photo-ready. Which colours we should have, the sofa they told us to buy last season, suddenly irrelevant, the details we adored that we now feel stupid for still wanting. Scallops, we still love you. I say…
I used to think that if I tidied and cleaned my house within an inch of its life to look like it belonged in a magazine before anyone came over, it would make my guests feel welcome. Instead, I ended up frazzled. Anxiety sat on my shoulder throughout the entire evening. On full alert in case something appeared out of place, let’s just say the atmosphere in my home was far from relaxing.
Now, I realise that showing my house as it is, is ok. I feel comfortable, so my friends feel comfortable too. Last month, another friend popped round unannounced. The kitchen was lived-in with breakfast dishes still out, shoes left where they were taken off, and various pieces of clothing on the back of the sofa. This time, I didn’t apologise. I made us tea, moved the piles of papers on the table to the side, and we sat and chatted.
Getting older, I want my relationships to be deeper rather than superficial. It’s hard to show our vulnerabilities, but when we do and show others how we feel, they often soften and show theirs too. No one is perfect, and neither are our homes.
My relationship with my home has gotten deeper, too. I’m no longer only interested in its looks; I see so much more. My house finally feels seen and heard. Fully embracing perfectly imperfect. I appreciate everything it does for us, and it means more to me than an immaculate, dust-free version.
I haven’t got time to put how our home looks as the priority anymore. I now create a home that is a healthy balance of real life and order. I want our home to feel warm and inviting, clean but not sterile. I embrace clutter as ‘tidy mess’. I have designated places for everything, but that doesn’t mean everything is hidden away, eradicating all signs of our lives.
Plumping cushions and decluttering every week is not on my to-do list. Seeing friends, eating dinner with my husband, going to the cinema, walking the dog, spending time with my kids, and exhaling are.
Learning to be comfortable with all the things our lives create is the first step to being free of the made-up pressure, which it is… completely made-up. Create a home on your terms, not someone else’s. Invite people or ponies in, and don’t ever apologise for being human.
Thank you for reading! I’d be so happy if you tapped the little ♥️, left a comment, or shared it with someone who might like it too. And don’t forget to subscribe if you haven’t already, so you don’t miss future posts.
Claire x
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