When perfection backfires

I was chatting with another mom yesterday, and she said something that I thought was very wise and that I've been thinking about ever since. In describing a place where they had visited to receive some therapy, she knew it wasn't for them because it all just looked too nice and too perfect. She couldn't imagine bringing her messy situation into a space such as that. The perceived perfection did not seem to allow any room for anything that was less than perfection.

I could immediately think of any number of situations where my surroundings made me feel unwelcome due to how nice they were... either because I worried what havoc my children might cause or because they left no room to relax or because I didn't perceive the owner as being welcoming to anyone less than perfect. I'm sure you can think of situations where you have felt that way, too.

I understand the desire to have living spaces or office spaces be nice; to work and live in beautiful surroundings. We all know, though, that life is messy... even if you don't have twelve children. It's why people find it so difficult to live in a house that is on the market needing to look perfect at the drop of a hat. It's just not how we normally live. Yet so many people, when they invite someone over to their house, want it to appear absolutely perfect. They want others to think well of them. They see the perfection of their house somehow translating to being perceived well. It's understandable to want to make a good impression. 

The trouble is, in the journey to make our living spaces (or working spaces) appear perfect, we forget to leave room for our humanity... which is messy. So you have made your home look just so, finally feeling as though you can invite people over without embarrassment. You wish you lived this way all the time, and some might even have trained themselves to do so, devoting a good chunk of time to it. Your guests arrive. They compliment you on your beautiful house; they are indeed impressed. Inside, though, they are dying a little bit inside because they know their home doesn't measure up. They feel inadequate. Perfection, or the image of it, precluded real community because everyone became so fixated on externals and appearances.

It's not just homes and offices where this happens. It happens with people, too. Who do you feel safe confiding in? The person who always has it all together all the time, or the person who is vulnerable about times when things did not go well? Perceived perfection puts up a wall. It says that I am not comfortable with mistakes or mess or differences. Yet it is the sharing of our mistakes, our messes, our weaknesses that allows us to connect with others, because frankly, we're all messes whether we're willing to 'fess up to it or not. On some level we know this, so are not trustful of those who pretend they don't have messes hidden away somewhere. 

The short version is perfection (if you are human and not divine) helps no one. How much better we would all be if we left room for mess in our lives and the lives of others. Perfection worries a bit too much about itself and not nearly enough about others. Who are you most comfortable with? Where are you most comfortable? That is who you want to be and the home you want to create.