You're Good: Home Dysmorphia and the Art of Loving Your Space Right Now
I’m surrounded by beauty everyday.
And not just your average pretty spaces but, like, THE most beautiful homes I’ve ever seen.
One of my jobs is to spec designs, which means once a designer completes selections for a project, I price, link, and organize all the selections in a spreadsheet. I flip through their presentation, pulling a hand-painted tile here and a custom upholstered sofa there. I love getting a front row seat to all of the pretty, getting to appreciate the work of the world’s most gifted artisans.
And then I go home. To my sofa from Ashley Furniture and my curtain-less windows that make our front living room nightly entertainment for the entire neighborhood. (Yet my husband still walks around in his underwear with zero shame). I’ve received money for drapes for 2 holidays and have yet to pull the trigger because buying things on a budget you have to love forever is paralyzing.
But if there’s one message we want to give readers, it’s this: You’re Good.
Your half-remodeled house is good, your Wayfair sofa is good, your Target curtains are good, your home, exactly the way it is, is good.
And so is the beauty. The beauty is not meant to be a contrast to what you already have. It’s meant to be good, something to make you smile, something to appreciate, something to inspire.
And I don’t know why we do it, but sometimes when we see the beauty we let it ruin the good. Why do we do that?
When Rebecca shares an image from a recently completed project to her designer Instagram, her goal is to share a piece of art that can be appreciated, the final product of a long journey. Or maybe she hopes you’ll be surprised by one of her choices and it will make you think outside the box the next time you choose a paint color or decorate your mantle or select hardware. Maybe she wants to push the boundaries, try something new, let you in on her creative process.
But here’s what it’s not: showing you what you need, what you don’t have, what you should want, what is missing in your life or your living room, etc. etc. etc.
The Scroll has a way of taking beauty and making it ugly. Taking the art of beautiful design, something meant to be consumed with joy, open-mindedness, and appreciation for craft and creativity, and replacing it with comparison, criticism, and envy.
What we’re seeing in the design world is something of an epidemic—a constant need to be current, on trend. A constant need to remodel, take out the old, put in the Now. And a problem with social media and the constant influx of curated images is the Now gets old really fast. Trends come and go faster than an episode of Fixer Upper and the minute you update your kitchen with the newest and best, you’ll see your favorite designer post a kitchen that’s newer and better.
It's like we're all suffering from home dysmorphia: all we see when we look through our front door is the bad, the undone, the imperfect. If you walk into your home and merely see is a list of To-Do’s, you just might miss the joy of what’s already done: a home you own (or rent) that you get to enjoy with the ones you love. There is something beautiful in that fact alone.
So from someone who sees some of the most expensive, gorgeous spaces every single day, stop apologizing to your guests for your blue kitchen countertops or the dated light fixture above your dining table. It’s good.
Stop viewing social media designers as a slideshow of goals to be met; perhaps instead, it’s a gallery of artists and creatives sharing their gifts that can spark joy and appreciation for beautiful things.
You’re good. Your home is good. And I hope you can find some relief in that.
by Jordan Harrell
Design Coordinator + Occasional Blogger
Rebecca Gibbs Interior Design/Oakstreet Shoppe
2 comments
This is the BEST message for anyone who lives in any type of home and is wishing it were different. There is so much to be said for the power of contentment and the ability to resist the temptation to see beautiful things as a message to you that what you have or even who you are is not enough. Thank you for articulating so beautifully a message full of timeless wisdom.
Gosh, I experience this so acutely.
It is hard to spend all of my professional life working to craft beautiful and useful outdoor spaces, and then come home to a landscape that has neither the time nor the money needed to be what I imagine it can be.
Somewhere in there, gratitude for what it is gets lost. I’m not sure how to become zen enough that I can lay aside the desire for things to be different than how they currently are.
I suspect it has something to do with regular intentional gratitude practices and the transformative work of God’s Spirit to shift me towards a paradigm of unconditional love, not just for the people in my life, but also for the actual life that I have.