pulling back from the curated.

A dear friend and I were discussing the pressures of perfect, perfected, aesthetic, curated just the other day, lamenting the disparity between what we see via social media versus what life can be outside the small, likable square.

So, when I took this photo:

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I initially intended to caption it with something about how ritualistic my self-care needs to be, but then I glanced around and saw that maybe there should be more to allowing you, the reader/viewer, into my small, likable square. That, maybe, in addition to sharing this much curated shot, you might want to also see this:

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That, maybe, instead of just showing you another one of my tarot decks and my comfy leather chair and that gorgeous live-edge side table, I should also show you that three months in to living here there are still unpacked boxes, furniture waiting to be donated, and art needing to be hung.

That, maybe, instead of just sharing how softly and enchantingly the rising sun’s light filters into our family room . . .

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you may also want to see we live here, too:

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That my pillows and cushions all need fluffing and straightening. That my youngest leaves his toys about, even when he’s been repeatedly reminded to put them away before bed. That my life outside of small, likable squares is far from perfect or perfected.

And that maybe sharing this with you is a little self-care that means you will share that with me, too.

xo