The Problem with Perfect: Finding Rest in What's Real

I almost didn’t write this.
Not because I didn’t have anything to say - 
but because in a world this loud, this divided, this… tense,
sharing something personal can feel vulnerable. Exposing. Uncomfortable. Even unsafe.

But lately, I've been craving more connection. More heart. More authenticity. More truth, even when it's not perfect.

What Perfect Costs

Perfection has long been sold as the gold standard.
Scroll any feed and you’ll see it - spotless homes, curated kids, lives staged like campaigns.

The Pinterest algorithm alone is enough to make you forget what you were looking for in the first place. It's not designed to inspire. It's designed to keep you scrolling - distracted, striving, and quietly convinced you're falling behind.

And in a world that feels increasingly fragile, uncertain, and polarized, it’s easy to believe that control - perfection - is the only thing keeping it all together.

But perfection doesn’t give us back what it takes.
It’s performative. Draining.
And it rarely delivers the peace it promises.

A 2023 Psychology Today study found that 60% of adults say perfectionist tendencies keep them from truly relaxing at home.
It’s not just a private struggle; it’s a cultural one.
We’re all trying to hold it together in a system that thrives on keeping us tired.

What I Learned From My Son

A few days ago, my 16-year-old told me something in passing - just a fact he learned in science class:
“Humans share 99.9% of the same DNA. It’s the 0.1% that makes us different.”

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that.
Because isn’t that what we spend so much of our lives arguing about or trying to hide?

The differences. The quirks.
The parts of us that don’t fit the mold.

In a culture that rewards sameness, certainty, and polish, it’s easy to mistake difference for flaw. But what if our differences are actually our strength?
What if softness isn’t weakness - but wisdom?

Linen as a Teacher

“For me, not only the business but linen itself became a kind of teacher. The way it evolves, softens, and carries its story reminded me that life works the same way. It’s not about keeping every crease smoothed out - it's about letting those textures speak. When I stopped trying to iron out my own edges and started seeing them as part of the design, I felt lighter. Linen helped me realize beauty isn’t in the flawless, it’s in the lived-in - and that became a philosophy I carry into everything.”

When I stopped trying to iron out my own imperfections and started seeing them as part of the design, I felt lighter.
Less at war with myself.
Less at war with the world.

We’re often trained to believe that polished equals worthy.
But what's remembered after we're gone isn’t perfection - it’s presence.
The 0.1% that makes us us.
That’s where beauty lives.

A Better Kind of Luxury

Modern culture defines luxury as “more.”
More square footage. More followers. More hustle.

But I believe real luxury is countercultural.
It’s rest.
It’s space.
It’s air.

It's time, honesty, simplicity.

I dream of reshaping how we think about investing in ourselves. Luxury becomes about choosing depth over accumulation, valuing things and relationships that endure, and making space for rest instead of filling every moment of time or square inch of space.

You Can’t Resist When You’re Running on Empty

The world doesn’t just reward perfection - it demands exhaustion. It counts your worth in output, your belonging in likes, your value in what you can prove. People wear their burnout like a badge of honor. 

You can’t resist when you’re running on empty.
You can’t think clearly, speak up, create boldly, or live meaningfully when you’re constantly chasing a moving target.

Rest isn’t a reward for surviving.
It’s a requirement for showing up with clarity, intention, and strength.

"If we want to raise kind humans, push for change, or live with meaning - we have to be rested enough to hold it all.
And rested enough to set some of it down."

A Quiet Rebellion

In a world still obsessed with curated perfection - and rewarded for performance over presence - choosing rest is an act of rebellion.

This rebellion isn’t loud.
But it's powerful.

It’s choosing fewer things, but better ones.
It’s letting go of the script.
It’s seeing our edges not as flaws - but as assets.

Because in the end, perfect doesn’t rest.
People do.

And in a world that keeps asking us to perform, resting is resistance.