Letting Go of Perfection:

How I Finally Started Living

The Pinterest-Worthy Illusion

I used to be that mom with the perfectly clean and organized house. Everything had a place, nothing was ever strewn about, and every surface gleamed. Pinterest-worthy? You bet. But also? Completely exhausting. The reality? My OCD was running the show, puppeteering me into believing that if my house wasn’t spotless, I was failing at life. Spoiler alert: I was failing anyway—but in the relationships department, not the Swiffer Olympics.

The Drill Sergeant Era

I became that mom. The one who trailed behind her kids like a personal hazmat team. The one who practically broke out in hives when a sock was left on the floor (a single sock…who even does that?!). The one whose teenager casually wiped their Cheeto hands on my white couch and lived to tell the tale—barely.

For years, I was the drill sergeant of cleanliness, pointing out every missed spot with the precision of an FBI investigator. “You didn’t wipe that counter correctly.” Oh, I’m sorry—did you just smear the crumbs in a different direction? Nice try. “Look at that smudge you left!” Are we trying to start a modern art exhibit on my windows? “Why can’t you do it right the first time?” I swear, this isn’t that complicated, people. And let’s not even get started on the teenage bedrooms, which I now refer to as biohazard zones. Seriously, if you know, you know (iykyk).