In Life as in Yoga
Can You Pin Happiness?
I joined Pinterest a few months ago to see what all of the fuss was about and to share my quotes and book information. I spent a few hours over the next week exploring various topic streams and signing up to follow boards that I found interesting (fitness, vegetarian, inspirational quotes). I love Pinterest for inspiration and ideas (those pumpkin recipes floating around last month made me want to take a week off work to spend in the kitchen!). Despite the positive impact that pinning can have as a virtual muse and design board, I also see a dark side casting shadows on the perfect pictures.
Many pins have the effect of ramping up expectations, often to levels that are impossible without a trust fund, a gaggle of helpers, or rib-removal surgery. It’s so easy to get caught up in the beautiful pictures, one after another, and to let your mind fantasize. The images cement our daydreams, providing a goal that may be inspirational or may be utterly unattainable. There is a fine line between reading a quote layered over a fitness model and feeling encouraged to work out and feeling frustrated that no number of hours in the gym will be able to give you that physique.
Nowhere does this setting of expectations get more out of hand than on the wedding boards. These are some of the most popular pins, making the rounds among women of all age: married, single and in-between. There are photos of elaborate dresses with price tags to match. Pictures of cakes with carefully crafted fondant. Images of budget-friendly decoration ideas. But they all have one thing in common. They’re perfect.
I get it. It’s much easier to focus on a single day than the parade of days that create a marriage. We can try to convince ourselves that a picture perfect wedding will somehow trickle down into the years of the marriage. Sadly, the proper shade of aubergine (what color is that, anyway!?!) for the bridesmaid’s dresses will not mitigate that recurring argument about the dishes. I wonder what a real life marriage board would look like? Probably not so perfect 🙂
I fear that too much time spent perusing perfect pictures will move a person away from happiness as the gap between their expectations and reality grows ever wider. Be a discerning consumer of media of all types. Filter what you are exposed to and limit yourself to images that inspire you and lift you up. Watch yourself and be prepared to go on a media diet if you find that you are becoming too engrossed in the pursuit of perfection. And for goodness sake, please get off the wedding boards:)
Pin it then live it. Don’t let your dreams only exist in the digital world.
Perfection in a Chipped Plate
In my old house, I strove for perfection. My ex and I were constantly laying tile, painting walls, building furniture, and then repainting walls. We looked for furniture, dishware, and accessories that would give a Pottery Barn look on a Target budget. I once spent over 30 hours looking for just the right throw pillows for the couch after we repainted the living room. We both had a similar level of neatness, so the carefully selected objects in the carefully crafted house were not obscured by clutter. Perfection always seemed attainable, although slightly out of reach.
In my new home, perfection is laughable. My boyfriend’s talents do not extend to homemaking; in fact, as far as the house is concerned, I feel like I live with a scattered 16 year old boy. Our furnishings are a compilation of his twenty years of bachelorhood and my on-a-very-tight-budget IKEA run to furnish the apartment I was in for year 2 of my new life. The cupboards are filled with an odd assortment of dishes and glasses, many of them chipped from being carelessly loaded into the dishwasher. The couch, a remnant of bachelorhood, is stained from spilled drinks and muddy paws. It is topped with throw pillows that don’t match much of anything. Even the house itself is a rental, so we have done the bare minimum to improve its aesthetics.
Sometimes, when I visit other people’s homes and I see their perfect serving dishes and their matched accessories, I feel inadequate. I think about hitting the stores and upgrading some of our things. But then I realize that I don’t want to travel that road again. I don’t want to feel the pressure to create a perfect home. In my old life, I took pride in my surroundings, yet I was also a slave to them. I like living in a home where I do not have to be worried about a spill on the rug or a chip in the wood. I like not being owned by my home.
So, if you ever make it over for dinner, I can promise you a mean Mexican lasagna on a chipped IKEA plate, plenty of wine (although it may not be served in a wine glass), and lots of laughter and good company (oh, and pit bull kisses too). That’s my idea of perfection.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 