I love me a good home reno show. I find it so satisfying to watch Ben and Erin maintain the historic charm of an old house in Hometown, Brian razz the homeowners good-naturedly in Leave it to Brian, or regular folks like me learn to breathe new life in a property on First Time Fixers. After binging a few episodes, I go to Jason with this idea and that idea about what we could do to our house to make it more functional and beautiful.
Unfortunately, though, it can leave my mind frenzied with the need to DO IT NOW because I simply cannot live with our house the way it is any longer. What I forget is that those shows put together a polished look at the reno process, and even though it’s stunning during the reveal, people inevitably live in it after the cameras are gone. The counters will fill up with crusty dishes and stray receipts; children and animals will track their muddy feet across the beautiful, taupe carpet; and paint will get scraped off the wall when the dining room chair gets pushed back a little too forcefully. We never get to see what these houses look like when they are well and truly lived in — perhaps they don’t feel much different than my own.
Thankfully for Jason, I’ve realized that our house is okay, I dislike that frenzied feeling, and I really just need to stop watching those shows for right now.
But that feeling of discontentment is so real and I find it incredibly hard to work through. Is it because of the staged nature of television, and the ads selling the ‘solutions’ to our ‘problems?’ Is it social media, with curated pictures of perfect people and houses and children and lives? Is it the desire to keep up with mythical Joneses and have the newest and trendiest of everything? Or is there a root that goes much deeper than that?
For myself, I’m recognizing that, when I see something I like and want, I tell myself all these reasons that I need this thing. A smart watch will tell me if I slept well or received a message if my phone isn’t on me…a larger dining set will help us host more people…a new paint job will make me feel like our house is so much more put together…a playset in the yard will entertain the children for hours every day…a remodel will give us an open-concept home…a new car will be bigger and cleaner and better…and on and on and on
And, obviously, none of these things are good or bad. But the struggle for me is in longing so much for something that isn’t, I miss out on what is. While I make mental lists of house projects, my kids are making bids for connection; while I research a new dining table we don’t have the money to buy, my family isn’t even eating at the one we already have; while I stress about the cost of more space as our family grows, I don’t think about how much of that space is required for stuff rather than people.
Of course, discontentment isn’t limited to things either; it creeps in when I see the number of people reading my newsletter, or dream about what a ‘perfect’ job might look like, or wish my children didn’t have difficult moments that I don’t really know how to navigate. I sometimes wonder if longing for the intangible can feel more difficult, as these are the things you can’t just go out and buy. Even if I don’t have the money, there’s always credit and loans for the other stuff, right?
Unfortunately, obtaining the things never seems to leave me satiated; it simply moves on to the next thing. When we bought our house, initially it felt as though it was the culmination of so much dreaming and hard work and patience, and I felt so much peace and gratitude. Then, as time went on, that peace was replaced with overwhelm because all I could see was everything that is wrong with it — focussing on its imperfections became a barrier to living fully in it as it is.
What if contentment isn’t something that can be achieved externally? What if I need to cultivate contentment through daily practices that ground me in acceptance of what is instead of living in a perpetual state of “not enough?” I’m not saying that I will just stop working on my house, or myself, or other things that are meaningful to me. But there’s a balance between constant, anxious desire for more and settling for what is without moving forward. As I navigate this balance, these are some things that bring me back to myself and living more fully in my life as it is.
The Practice of Noticing
I think, for myself, social media and make-over shows are a huge source of discontentment. We all know why: comparison. When I feel myself being caught up in this anxious frenzy, I know that I need to PUT IT DOWN — and notice. This is a practice for me because, even after shutting the screens off, sometimes I’m still lost in my head. I need to stop myself from going down the rabbit trail of discontentment by really seeing what’s around me: watching Sage play curiously with a speck on the floor; observing Declan’s process of imagining how to make a real Pokémon pet for himself; becoming aware of the gentle rise and fall of the sleeping cat in its warm window bed; noting the messy floors and kitchen counters that are a part of our daily life. The beauty of this practice is that it’s available to everyone — we all have moments and portraits of beauty all around us, we just need to stop long enough to notice.
The Practice of Neutrality
One thing that drives my desire for more is the belief that these things are better. KC Davis of Struggle Care describes this notion that things are morally neutral. She mostly talks about daily care habits like cleaning and hygiene, but honestly, it applies to most things: new phone or old phone, quiet child or wild child, brand new car or beater car; lots of friends or a few close friends; latest fashion or 10 year old t-shirt; fresh paint or chipped paint — none of these things are better or worse than their counterparts. It’s morally neutral. When I stop putting one thing on a pedestal, I can ask myself better questions: What will serve me and my family? What will actually improve my quality of life? Do I need something just because other people have it, or is there an alternative that will actually suit me just fine and serve my needs better? If I’m really honest, the answer usually involves my perception of what I need rather than what I actually need.
The Practice of Creativity
What if engaging my creative side isn’t just a nice thing to do occasionally when there’s time or something that’s reserved for certain people — what if it’s necessary for my ability to live my life fully? What if it’s necessary for all of us? What if I stopped taking in content and media and pictures of the perfect life, and started letting out what’s inside of me? This is a new question and practice for me, and a big part of why I even started this newsletter. So far, I’m noticing that creativity can only happen when I give myself enough space to let my brain be bored (TURN OFF THE SCREENS, ALEESHA!). I’ve also noticed that it has become an antidote to scrolling and discontentment: when my brain feels too full, whether I’m reading a book or watching a show or scrolling, I stop and ask myself what I could make instead. It’s a practice because initially I didn’t know what the answer was — things are just harder with a curious baby and active child. But honestly it doesn’t need to be as extravagant as I maybe thought: a quick poem inspired by
's daily prompts, a couple notes to myself about what to write in my next newsletter, a bit of practice in watercolour, planning out our garden, putting together crafts and explorer bags using the things we have at home, and even planning out a dome to build using out old tires (I'll post about it hopefully in my next mash-up). Noticing has been an important part of the process, because it's easy to compare my creativity to another's, but that's not the point! I need to be okay with what it looks like for me, in my circumstances, with what I have available to me.
Do you find yourself struggling with discontentment? What does that look like for you?
What particular practices ground you in what is and help you find contentment?
Yes! I read somewhere that an antidote to discontentment is to say 'there is nowhere else I'd rather be than here'. It sounds trite but I've been doing it and it helps me appreciate what I do have and that despite the mess and the noise this very imperfect family and home is what I was dreaming of years ago.
I can definitely relate to a lot of what you wrote Aleesha. Thank you for expressing your thoughts so eloquently. Definitely gave me some food for thought :)