In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some conversations that have plunged me into my good old navel-gazing mode. I’m going to babble on for a while today, so don’t feel obliged, or you might want to pour yourself a hot beverage and settle in…
“I always feel like I have to be perfect,” a friend told me quietly the other day, matter-of-fact, and I bobbled my head in wholehearted agreement. For as long as I can remember, there’s been a perfect version of me lurking in the back of my mind – the one that’s miraculously sprouted gazelle-like legs and has luminous, blemish-free skin. A less awkward me that bedazzles a room full of people with abundant wit and charm; someone who never, ever accidentally publishes a blog post. My perfect self would put Mother Teresa and Martha Stewart to shame, all while retaining sensual allure. You know, the usual suspects: perfect appearance, personality, home, job, partner, kids and pets. This version of me would be above and beyond the stay-at-home vs. working mom discussion because all would be juggled beautifully and effortlessly. And flawless me would never be jealous or envious, and would handle others’ jealousy and envy with aplomb (because when you’re perfect, you can’t avoid the green-eyed monster, right?).
It’s exhausting just writing about my perfect self; she is annoying.
Do men do this? From my many, many years of female friendships, almost every woman I know expends a great amount of energy feeling guilty about not being the end-all-be-all. At any given moment, I’m assaulted by promises of wrinkle-banishing creams and thigh-reduction exercises and life-enhancing tips and tricks for romance and friendships. People are making bazillions following their passions and the explosion of social media catapults me into “ordinary” folks’ lifestyles that look like they’ve been produced by Vogue’s production team. Who are these fashion bloggers? How do all these people keep up on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and Pinterest and Vimeo and blogs and the next big thing?
Again, exhausting.
About a week ago, I had coffee with another friend; she’s been thinking about starting a blog and wanted to know how to run a successful blog. Ironic, no? Here I am, feeling like I’m not keeping up at all because I can’t find the time to write tutorials or finesse photoshoots in moody, distressed-toned alleyways and lavender fields. I have never called myself a blogger (mostly because I hate that word) and still don’t talk about it much with people in real life. I don’t even know how to tweet — could I be bamboozling others into thinking I’m legit?
I started this blog because I was at my most imperfect self. For all intents and purposes, I had been fired from my job (it was a little more complicated than that, but “canned” pretty much sums it up). My health was in ruins, my family in disrepair, my ego completely shattered and all I could think about was how I had failed. I’d never failed so spectacularly before. I’ve been known to worship the version of my perfect self and did everything to become her. At my job, I was deluded into thinking I was her – words like “rising star” were bandied about, and I was offered a better position, a handsome salary, an ergonomic office chair. I dressed well, felt competent, even successful. I was insufferable, really. Eventually, I couldn’t handle the long hours and increased stress, and soon I crumbled. Political savvy was not my forte, and I was repeatedly and publicly humiliated in meetings. My star had fizzled out.
Stuck with my laundry list of imperfections, I felt like I wasn’t capable of much when I became unemployed. So I decided to start over. I was determined to show up every day and try everything I’d ever been interested in. To practice and practice and practice some more. My goal wasn’t to represent some aspirational, idealized part of my life but to chronicle my trial-and-error progression through this blog. To get better, not perfect.
Over the fifteen months I’ve been practicing, I’ve learned a few things:
1. Blogging requires an incredible amount of work – unless you love it, it’s easy to get overwhelmed, not only with producing your own work but by the scope of amazingness on other blogs. I spend more hours than I’d care to admit on my blog posts, and I absolutely love it, but I earn zero money through it. This makes the husband nervous and he wants me to monetize the blog somehow. At this juncture, advertising and sponsorship don’t feel right to me and I’ve never tried to promote my blog. I deeply and firmly believe that other opportunities will arise, which leads me to…
2. I’ve learned how to trust my instincts. By focusing on the things that feel right, opportunities have arisen. I’ve connected with wonderful and talented people across the globe; I’m going to be teaching; a plethora of exciting projects are in the works.
3. I’ve become more frugal. It doesn’t come naturally to me — I like nice things and have somewhat expensive taste. But in order to “live the dream” as M likes to refer to it, I am learning how to be a lot more thrifty. It’s actually been liberating not buying clothes for a year and figuring out priorities for expenditures. I still have a long way to go, but I’m taking baby steps to becoming a frugalista.
4. I have more patience and contentment in my every day. Sewing in particular is an exercise in patience. When you think about it, who in their right mind would want to sew their own and children’s clothes from scratch in today’s mass-produced world? But sewing, for me, is joyous, a much needed slow-motion button in this frenzied pace. The plentiful mistakes are frustrating to be sure, but I sometimes look at all the things I’ve made and I can’t believe they came out of my own two hands. No one asks whether K’s clothes are handmade unless they’re aware that I sew. I derive immense satisfaction from knowing that each stitch is infused with happiness. And the happiness is there in every drawing, photo, and paragraph I craft. Creating=contentment.
5. I feel more connected and discovered how much strength is in community. This blip of a space in the world wide web has been a gateway to unexpected friendships and a gold mine of resources and like-minded lovelies like you. I love looking through my archives and treasure each comment and marvel that people are reading my words (or maybe you’re not and just looking at the pictures – that’s awesome too). “Do you guys spend all day leaving each other warm, fuzzy, supportive comments?” M asked me incredulously one day. Yes honey, we do.
6. Above all, I’ve learned how to be more disciplined. I learned how to slowly build new habits and the biggest benefit of this has been for my health. It’s true what they say: if you don’t have your health, you got nuthin’. It’s taken ages for me to stop feeling like some hideous alien had overtaken my systems to conduct gut-wrenching experiments. I’ve concentrated on taking care of myself and in the process, I’ve found that I’m quite fond of my stubby legs and funny social faux pas moments and all the other “flaws” that make me the person I am.
It’s been a wonderful fifteen months of blogging and I’m eager to keep creating and sharing and practicing. I don’t know much, but I know this: perfection is boring; there’s nowhere else to go from there and maintenance is a nightmare. Am I right or am I right?
You are so right! This post brought tears to my eyes, Sanae. I’m sure I’m not the only one who will comment that I can completely and utterly relate to everything you just wrote! It might sound cliche but I feel like I could have written this (although I don’t think I could have articulated it as well as you did!) I wish we lived closer and we could grab a cup of coffee and marvel at how wonderful this blogging/sewing community is and how much better off we are not being perfect. Perfect is boring 🙂
I’ve been in a teary-eyed state myself, Meghan! I imagine we’d have lovely coffee dates and I so appreciate your regular comments!
You’ve come a long way, great to read your thoughts, and many are very familiar… Thank you!
Thank you Nienke! I’d like to think I’ve come a long way, but I’ve got my eye on the super long haul in terms of being okay with all my quirkiness and there is much more to be done 🙂
Hope you keep enjoying the journey then! (and through your blog I’m enjoying along ;-))
I love your blog. I really do. I know when it pops up in my reader that I’m getting a writing style that matches the style of your clothes and of your illustrated art work. I’m a writer, so I do appreciate the words. I love the style of all of those just as they are, clean, honest and an appreciation of simplicity that also has room for experiment and enthusiasm. I also love it because it’s such a relief after the frenetic saturation of colour and shininess elsewhere. I love that too, but sometimes the eyes and the mind need the matte finish, the linen, the ochrey taupey charcoaley, you know that thing. As for perfection. My son lost his first wiggly tooth the other day. His gappy smile is infinitely cooler and more astonishingly gorgeous than one with a perfect set of teeth. Obviously, I’d say. We’re much better at this with the kids, I reckon. I mean, mine are fantastic, but they’re not perfect. And if that’s what missing perfection looks like, then I’m fine with imperfection.
I totally agree that we’re so much more unconditionally accepting of children in general. Maybe it’s their innocence and innate adorableness – They could have unspeakably gross goop all over them, and my automatic response is “awwww…so sweet!” 🙂 Thank you for your kind comment – love your handle “Janome Gnome”! So clever 🙂
Yes! All of the blogs I follow regularly (the ones I’ve bookmarked and look forward to checking in with, like having a cup of tea with a good friend) are created and written by amazing women who have overcome the long struggle to be perfect and woken up to how much love and support there really is in the world for just being *YOU*. It definitely inspires more trust and, well, inspiration, to read a blog post that talks about real feelings and experiences- imperfect as they often are. Yes, we all have our shining moments and our crumbling moments and all of the juicy stuff in between. Life is endlessly presenting opportunities for us to connect with our higher, truer selves- the ones that care more about being real, making community and sharing what rocks our world. So glad that you are discovering your path as you go along. It takes strength and bravery to trust in life, but really when we let go and start being attentive to what clicks inside ourselves, life becomes something really worth waking up for. Thanks again for sharing your process.
Oh thank you, Gita! I think you hit it on the nail with “being attentive to what clicks inside ourselves”. I spent way too many years trying to be someone I thought was presentable and refused to listen to what made sense intrinsically.
Hi Sanae, and thanks for your insightful, thought-provoking post.
You raise some really interesting points. I’ve got a blog, but it’s pretty dormant. This is partly because I can’t decide how much of the real me to put on it. I love reading blogs, and the ones I respond to most are those which are the most honest, which includes the bad as well as the good.
There are some gorgeous blogs about, but I notice that as the authors start to accept sponsorship, the tone can change and I suspect the implicit pressure to present a more idealised version of life can influence what is posted. It appears that many bloggers really struggle to maintain the honesty which is a hallmark of your blog (as well as the beauty!) while running it as a commercial concern.
Of course, this puts pressure on the rest of us, as these accounts of real women’s lives start to become as air-brushed and idealised as the magazines they were once an alternative to. There are some blogs which induce the same feelings of inadequacy in me as certain lifestyle magazines – that sense of “if she can do it, why can’t I?”. They’re beautiful to look at, but i still crave the direct honesty of those blogs which put it all out there, warts, mistakes, bad days and all. Not sure if I’m brave enough to follow them, but I so admire everyone who does it.
Please keep blogging and trusting your instincts. x
I love your comment, Catherine! I’ve noticed the change in tone of bigger blogs as a result of sponsorships too. I wanted to remain ad/sponsor free mainly because of that reason. I wanted to make sure this place was where I could be myself without compromise. When I used to do illustrations more regularly, I struggled with clients who wanted me to mimic other people’s styles…it didn’t feel like me and made me feel sad.
I hope you find a comfortable balance for your own blog; that’s the beauty of having your own: you can make it anything you want it to be 🙂
Sorry for hopping in on your conversation, but I just wanted to say that I really recognize what Catherine says as well, the polishing up of sponsored blogs and the way that can make me feel inadequate… Nice observation, thanx!
Have you been reading my thoughts? It is a daily struggle for me to be perfect and to be all things to all people. I almost lost myself somewhere along the way. Thanks for your post, I needed a bit of a reminder to allow myself to be me, warts and all.
I know that lost feeling well, Karen. I’m so glad this post served as a little reminder — I have to keep reminding myself! 🙂
You are absolutly right. I love your blog, and now a little bit more 🙂
So sweet, Carla, thank you! Do you know, I was so nervous and embarrassed about this post I almost deleted it? I didn’t have a back-up post though, so I decided to just leave it as is. I’m overwhelmed by the response!
I love this post and I am so happy that you love blogging. Perfect is totally boring and annoying!
Totally boring and annoying! Congrats, by the way! So happy to read about your baby news, Carla!
You are right! I love this post, and I love your blog.
Just this morning I was thinking about this quote, which I apply to blogging and sewing: “Promoting makes people think you’re already a master. Practicing is what actually makes you a master . . . Spend ten hours practicing your dream for every one hour you spend promoting it.”
I saw that in an Instagram photo someone (@sewfearless) posted from a book she was reading. (Start by Jon Acuff) It changed the way I view sewing/blogging in my own life. It was liberating, and I noticed an immediate difference once I gave myself permission to be imperfect and *not* a master.
Your style — photography, sewing, all of it — is genuine and beautiful. 🙂
What a great quote, Michelle! Thank you for sharing (need to figure out how to get onto Instagram…I feel a new addiction coming on). It reminds me of the 10,000 hours of practice that Malcolm Gladwell talks about and I totally subscribe to the philosophy of practice!
Amen, Sanae. So many women reading this honest post will resonate with what you’ve expressed – on many levels. With your typically engaging writing style, you have touched upon an issue that most of us struggle with and in your honesty, you have allowed us to not feel alone. I can’t begin to imagine the time it takes to maintain your blog, but from the bottom of my heart, thank you for doing so.
I love your list of things you are learning, and am inspired to be more introspective as well. Too much auto-pilot these days for me – your words are showing me that each day holds something to shape me. And lastly, I’m so glad that you are feeling stronger and more healthy these last few months. Wish I lived closer and could be a daily walking partner – exercise and sewing talk: what a win-win!!
Oh, wouldn’t that be so fun to be able to take daily walks? I hear you on the auto-pilot. I’m actually not introspective all the time and find myself easily getting caught up in the trivialities and minutiae of every day and before I know it, a week has passed! Thank you for your consistently supportive comments, Lucinda!
Thank you, Sanae. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for inspiring me, for making me laugh and for bringing tears to my eyes, for reminding me to trust in what I love and in what makes me happy, for your beautiful creations, your words, for blogging, for struggling and practicing and for being wonderfully imperfect!
I am looking forward to all your exciting projects that are in the works! ( I so wish I could attend your class. I just tried to make a tunic – by altering a pattern – similar to the ones you made, and boy, did I fail! But I also learnd a lot! 😉 )
And coincidentally a friend of mine just send me a link to a TED talk by Brene Brown about “The power of vulnerability” and she talks about the courage to be imperfect. VERY worth watching…if you haven´t already seen this!
And yes! I’m a big fan of Brene Brown – such a good talk!
Ohmygosh, this made me cry! All the comments are making me cry! Thank you, Ute – how amazing this online world can be. I’m in awe.
man, sanae, you’re a gem. sometimes i come here and don’t even feel worthy of leaving a comment on your beautiful posts! it’s funny, for years i never mentioned my blog to anyone in my real life. i think, by nature, some people are just not self-promoters. all that matters is that it serves a meaningful purpose for you, and it sounds like it most definitely does. and we are so incredibly lucky to reap the benefits. and of course, thanks for keeping me company in the accidental post-publishing department 🙂
Haha! That moment when you realize the post got published? The worst. I am definitely in the non-self-promoting camp, though M is enthusiastic with marketing and tells anything with a pulse about my blog (“Honey, I don’t think the nice man working the 7-11 cash register is interested in crafting…”) 🙂
Don’t let perfection be the enemy of good. 🙂 It takes time to get comfortable in your own skin, maybe even a lifelong journey, but you’re making good progress.
Thanks, June! That just reminded me of a friend in college who would always tell me, “use your powers for good, Sanae, not for evil”. Not really related, but it always made me laugh 🙂
Ahh I love this post – it makes me want to write a mini-essay in response! I’ll try to keep it short and just say that I’m so glad that you’re on this path of listening to yourself and trusting your instincts about what you need to be doing (partly selfishly, so I can learn from and with you!) Perfectly photographed long-legged-blemish-free-baby-pets-killer-job-designer-house-world-travel blogs give me hives – your blog is real and beautiful and shows how observant, creative and hilarious you are.
I’ve always wanted to be hilarious but M and K assure me that I’m not (because they most definitely are), so your comment makes me extra happy, Morgan 🙂
I love your blog, thank you for that. I love it even more that you do not follow the ‘ad and sponsor me’ path, which is very refreshing but I can imagine how frustrating it must be on your side not to earn. However, this is a lovely and peaceful place on the internet and your blog should be prescribed for many suffering from depression instead of drugs. You rock, Girl, thanks! Your devoted reader and fun from Bay Area.
Thank you, Aga! Yes, the no-income-generating thing is a fly in the ointment but for the time being we’re making it work. And I am infinitely happier penny-pinching and doing what I’m doing now compared to the corporate ringer I put myself through. Hmmmm, an interesting concept, this blog prescription idea. But what if my blathering makes people even more depressed? It can happen…:-)
Such a good post. Thanks for sharing.
Thank YOU for reading!
I totally agree..and reading genuine blogs by real people with real lives is what makes the whole concept so fantastic. I love your writing and please don’t feel pressurized to submit posts of a certain frequency or quality. I think the beauty of having your own blog is that you can write whenever and about whatever subject you feel like. Thank you for letting us share that with you.
Thank you for your lovely comment, Laney! I’ve been smitten by the whole idea of blogs from the beginning. I remember discovering my first blog in 2007 (loobylu.com) and it rocked my world.
Thanks for this… I still do battle with my perfect other self, but I try to remind myself of what a wise therapist once told me: she sounds pretty boring. I love reading your blog and am so glad I ended up here a few months ago.
I’m so glad you ended up here too, Amanda! The wise therapist and I are on the same wavelength, that’s very validating :-). Thank you for your sweet comment!
you are right! thanks for the post 🙂
Thank you so much, Katka! I’m so glad that I didn’t chicken out on posting this – the solidarity is so heartening!
you are right! I love your blog, what you make and how you write about it. I am sure that if you keep following your ‘gut’ feelings, something will come in your direction and your husband doesn’t have to worry anymore.
I keep saying that to M too, Heleen! I have a feeling he’s a bit skeptical and thinks I’m angling to make my blog a “perma-hobby”. I have a strong feeling that good things are afoot though 🙂
I just can’t stop myself of reading this post over and over again. I admire your amazing skill of communicate these very deep topics in the right way, the way that touch hearts -I think-. I have told you why I like your blog, but I need to say it again: because is honest and I can see this thought all your creations, including your writing. I can imagine how much time you invest on your blog because it translates in this amazing world that is so lovely to visit . Thank you for all your time, love and effort you put on your blog!. Wishing you the best for all those new projects you are working on.
Thank you, thank you Maria! What flattering words and I’m so grateful that we’ve connected!
Creating=contentment. You are so right. That’s what it all boils down to for me. I enjoy reading blogs where I know the author truly loves creating. It shows in their work. Which is why I love reading yours!
Aw, thanks Liza Jane! Did you know that your blog was one of the first sewing blogs I started to read regularly? In many ways, I feel like I’ve found the community I’ve always known existed but wasn’t quite sure where to find.
For me, this is the most perfect blog post I’ve read in ages. Thanks for taking the time to share and compose all those thoughts. I relate on almost every. single. point you made – from the act of sewing to the conflicting thoughts on monetisation all the way through to the online community. For me, the only downside is the complete addictiveness of it all! Again, thanks for sharing and making this community that little bit stronger. x
It IS so addicting, isn’t it? Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment, Laura! xx
I first discovered your blog when I came across you October class at Ballard Dry Goods, and I’ve enjoyed reading your authentic, down-to-earth posts and am inspired by your way with fabric.
Probably all of us suffer or have suffered under the burden of the myth of perfection. This turns out to be a dead-end since perfection is impossible when one is a human being living a life. I used to long for a house smelling of lemon oil as uncluttered as a Shaker house. But that, I realized, isn’t home. Home is in flux and reflects the process of living which involves creating a mess and then cleaning it up.
This is a poem I discovered many years ago and still read often. I want to share it with you and your readers. Thanks for your blog and for your willing spirit that informs it.
Joan (poem follows)
*
White Field
It is like standing beyond
a snowfield with a single
set or footprints across it
and you say, Those prints are mine
because no one else has ever been here.
All day the snow comes down,
all day you tell yourself what you feel,
but you remain in that place
beyond the snowfield.
Is there better proof
of your presence than
this open field, where you stand
now looking back across the white
expanse that is once more new to you?
As snow fills the places
where you must have walked,
you start back to where you began,
that place you again prepare to leave,
alone and warm, again intact, starting out.
Daniel Halpern
What a beautiful and serene poem – thank you, Joan! Drygoods has been one of those magical places where I’ve developed some great connections and relationships 🙂 And yes, I too would love a Shaker-style uncluttered house, but I’ll just keep dreaming…
I’m pretty sure I love you. Well worded and written…
Haha! I love you too, Monica!
thank you for this. beautiful post. my first time on your blog and i’ll definitely be back. xo
Welcome, Karen – so thrilled that you’re here. Normally it’s a lot quieter around this part of the blogosphere – hope you get a chance to look around 🙂
I get up each morning, with a cup of tea in hand, and pop on to read all these blogs. I have a list of bookmarked ones. Yours is always the last one I read before I drag myself off the ouch to start the work day. Want to know why? Because its AMAZING. Your creations are amazing, the pictures amazing, the words amazing. Amazingly creative, amazingly fun, amazingly smart and most of all, amazingly humble (and humbling). Love your blog! Can I also add that I love your handwriting in that photo above. Thought about turning it into a font?
Oh Grace – I think my head may have grown to an alarming size…thank you so very, very much! That would be so fun to have my handwriting as a font. I did a little bit of lettering work when I was very young and studied Japanese calligraphy briefly. I think I want to pick it up again!
Ah! This post is like a drink of cold, cool water. Thank you. I agree with so much…the tug to monetize but the creeping feeling that it just isn’t right. What are the boundaries? I also take a long time to write a blog post…except I then get impatient and just ‘get it done’ and then feel bad for a while. I’m working on it, as I am with most things. I agree, though, with your larger point. For me, I find joy in making and this year I’ve dedicated to what I call “My Rules for Joy” and I’m refining them and also working to follow them. Because, the joy is what leads me to where I’m happy. I’m taking the leap of faith with you, sister! Let’s jump!!
Yes! Love your rules for joy – it’s brilliant! It’s really weird, but I think I may be taking longer and longer on my posts. Must figure that out…
I’d love to leave some thoughtful, witty comment (my perfect self would know just the one!) but the only thing that’s coming to me is this:
yes. all of it. yes. and thank you 🙂
Thank you, Andrea! And I thought that was very witty and thoughtful.
just wanted to add to the chorus of thanks for being so open and honest in your writing and in your creating. you’re a true artist and i’m with the other gals that visiting here is a peaceful pause in a bright and shiny world. i think staying true to yourself and what brings you happiness is the most important thing in creative blogging, but it can definitely be a struggle the more directions you start to be pulled in as your blog grows! hugs to you, sanae!!
It might seem odd, but I don’t consider myself an artist. But I love that you think of me as one! You’ve always been such a staunch supporter, I can’t thank you enough, Kristin!
What a beautifully honest and well written post. I have been working through the same thoughts myself, and have recently been questioning why I have a blog and if I should shut it down. The pressure to keep it looking as great as so many others, to produce things that others care to look at, is just so overwhelming and exhausting. I stopped posting and caring for a week or two and my world felt suddenly so much better. No pressure. I really enjoy coming to your blog. So simple, yet beautiful. I really appreciate that I’m not getting products thrown in my face or sponsored posts. It’s real, and I like that. I love your style and I love your honesty. Please keep it up! Fiona xoxo
Thank you, Fiona! I read an article a while back (I think it was the NY Times) about how nowadays blogs are styled to the nines and look professionally photographed and how competition is fiercer than ever. On the one hand I think it’s fabulous that all this talent is emerging, but on the other hand the pressure feels insurmountable. Early on, I told myself that I’ll just do what I can do. I think a blog break is an excellent idea; it sounds so relaxing and I need to give that a try!
Thank you for this post. A lot of these thoughts have been on my mind since I started my own blog not too long ago.
Blogging can be so daunting – at its best, I think it fosters tremendous creativity, opportunities for collaboration and a sense of confidence and community. At its worst, the insecurities it may generate can feel debilitating, and if you’re trying to make a living through it, the business side seems taxing (at least from my perspective – I’m completely business-challenged). But overall, I think blogging is marvelous because YOU can define it any way you want. Thank you for your comment Kelli!
Love your openness and authenticity. Than you for sharing your heart.
Thank you for reading, Fiona! These posts do tend to leave me feeling exposed, but it’s also rewarding to try to articulate my thoughts. I expected crickets and am so grateful for each and every comment.
I loved reading this and nodding my head in agreement with just about everything. Including the stubby legs and social awkwardness. Lol. That’s me too! Blogging is a crazy world. It’s hard not to feel discouraged about writing your own, when it takes so long to produce something that’s not even close to the standard of the more polished blogs out there. The term “blogger” also makes me cringe and doesn’t feel right if I try to apply it to myself. I’ve found that “person with a blog” is a far more comfortable description. ^_^
I like “person with a blog”! 🙂 It’s such a crazy world and one that my non-blogging friends can’t relate to at all. One of the many reasons I don’t talk about it much 🙂
I could relate to every word. The struggle for perfection..I pranced around a day job with a title and a big salary, thinking it defined me. After stress created unhealthy circumstances, i took a huge leap of faith and quit. I took a vacation and came back to a part time job in a coffee shop. I had time to sew!! That’s what I did! I sewed and sewed and sewed! I found meditation thru the hum and purr of a sewing machine. Today, I am only defined by how I love. Somedays are great, other days ho hum. I am building and nurturing friendships and relationships and I believe my happiness comes from that leap of faith….<3
This is so great, Tara! I’ve always had a secret dream of owning a coffee shop, but working part-time at one is even better! Kudos to you for ditching the stressful job and trusting yourself. Wonderful, wonderful!
Sanae- thanks for the thoughtful post! I can’t stand the “perfection race” but I feel like I’m in it everyday whether I want to be or not. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who feels these various pressures. When the deadline is looming, the baby is crying and I’m cleaning dog poop off the floor, as long as I can laugh about it, I think I’m doing ok. I’m a teacher and everyone is constantly talking about “raising standards” but I’m making a goal of lowering standards in my personal life!
Ha! We could all do with some lowering of standards, for sure! Love it. As I was reading your comment, I was thinking about that book “I Don’t Know How She Does It” by Allison Pearson. I never watched the movie, but I liked the book and there’s a part where the protagonist (a mother who is a successful hedge fund manager) is trying to make store-bought baked goods look homemade to take to her child’s school. It spoke volumes about how much pressure there is to exceed all expectations. I’m also a big believer in being able to find the absurdity and laugh about the craziness.
WOW! I am new to your blog, courtesy of the fabulous Heidi of E&E – but I am blown away by your work and your honesty. You are inspiring, in every way possible. Thank you for such a beautifully written post.
Thanks so much for your warm and generous compliments, Jess! That Heidi, she’s the bee’s knees 🙂
hah! seeing the warm fuzzy thoughts below your post makes me smile so wide.
thank you, sanae, for writing this post. every woman can relate to this sentiment.
hugs!
Hugs right back atcha, Jaya! Thank you! I’m literally floored by the kindness…
I have to say that, like Andrea said above…I’ve been mulling this over for a day now…wanting to leave you a perfectly well thought out and thoughtful comment…and you know…this was just so eloquently written and resonated so so much with me (as it has with so many others) that I am finding it hard to find the perfect words to write, so instead I will just say “thank you” thank you for this post, for all of your posts. I so enjoy coming here to read your honesty, your wit, the calmness, the beauty. Thank you. Have a lovely day!
I can’t even express how honored I am that my random ramblings would be mulled over – thank you, Jane! These kinds of “conversations” and exchanges that strengthen people’s ties is why I love blogging so much. I keep reading how alienated people often feel online, and that can be true too, but I’ve discovered the exact opposite!
i don’t like the “perfect” person you were describing, either, and we both know that person isn’t happy because there are only so many hours in the day, so other things (relationships) must suffer to maintain that lifestyle. (and i have noticed many fashion bloggers don’t have children, or do earn income from blogging so it is literally their day job). while there are always different, allegedly better ways to do anything, a part of growing older as you know well is becoming comfortable in finding your own balance and happiness, regardless of what that picture looks like to others. how lucky for us that you share that process so openly and so beautifully in this space, and that this blog has expedited or at least helped in molding it. i have always deeply respected the organic and grass rootsy development of this blog, the genuine way you have gained a huge following, and not being bombarded by ads or obligated to do anything but relax and read while i’m here. you are a woman with many talents and a lovely family enjoying good health of your own making…sounds pretty perfect to me. xo
Thank you, Ashley! “Huge following” might be overly generous on your part :-), but I am most definitely grateful for and appreciative of all the amazing folks who take time out of their day to stop by, leave a comment (or not), fill my days with an outpouring of support. I feel so lucky!
Beautiful. One of my imperfections in blogging is that I’m horrible at the “warm fuzzy” comment leaving all day. But I had to say thank you for writing this. We need more slow and thoughtful blogs like yours.
I need to come clean that I’ve been atrocious about leaving comments on other blogs lately, which makes me all the more astounded and thankful for the comments I receive. I’m working on getting my fuzzies back on (hmmm…that didn’t come out quite how I meant it to…)
So right. And you know, perfection is not only boring, but I think it’s only appealing from afar. I personally find people who seem to have it all figured out a little off-putting and intimidating, and generally steer clear. And I wouldn’t be nearly as fond of you if you were perfect- your humanness and humility and willingness to share the good and the bad makes you so much more endearing. Now, if only I could internalize the same thoughts about myself…
Thanks for sharing, as always, Sanae!
So true! About the perfect-seeming people being intimidating, that is. At the gym, I recently read in People magazine or something (a truly high-brow and reliable source, I know) about Gwyneth Paltrow talking of how, now that she’s older and less threatening, she’s finally forging female friendships. Perhaps not the best example, but in the spirit of your comment, no? 🙂 thank you for your insightful and sweet words!
As above!
I also find your blog ‘perfect’. Your candour offers us all the belief that we can achieve great things. You don’t always look comfortable in front of the camera but always look fantastic; you highlight imperfections in your ‘makes’ which still always look amazing; you manage an illness with diet and exercise rather than drugs. You inspire me and I look forward to reading your blog and love the pictures.
Yes! We can all achieve great things! And your comment about my looking uncomfortable in front of the camera made me laugh out loud! It is a bit like swallowing cod liver oil for me and in some vague, archaic way I think the selfies are good for me to get over my hang-ups 🙂
Can it be possible that the woman behind this blog which just oozes perfect style is not perfect in her own mind?! Thanks for your honesty in this post. Personally my sticking point is in trying to be as honest while maintaining as much anonymity as I can as I’ve never wanted to be someone who’s life is on the internet. I think you balance this very well. You see all the bits of yourself, while I just see someone who has the most exquisite taste in all aspects of design. I could also be accused of having a Sanae crush!
Oh, you’re too kind Shelley! The first part of your comment made me think of the Wizard of Oz, and I definitely want to make sure that I’m not presenting any kind of misleading impression. And I totally agree that it’s so tricky to find that balance between honesty and anonymity – I think you do a great job!
Hi Sanae – In case you do ever try to monetize your blog, here’s an idea for you: somehow make Japanese patterns more accessible to non-Japanese speakers. I absolutely love their style and patterns, but for the life of me, I can’t figure them out! I would definitely be willing to pay for Japanese patterns that have been modified and made a bit simpler, and I bet others would too. Love your blog! – Emily
Thank you, Emily! What a great idea. I know there are a couple of people doing something like that, but I don’t think the patterns have been modified. Hmmmm….must research and look into that!
You are very special I believe. I don’t think I can express it properly without sounding creepy but the main feeling I get when reading your blog is honesty. I see the clothes and the sewing and they are amazing but when you post things (especially about yourself) you just seem so honest. This is a diminishing virtue in our World and deserves to be recognized and valued. I value your blog. I will never meet you in person but somehow it feels like you are someone I know. Thanks for this post and every other one!!!
Thank you so much for this lovely comment, Tracy – not creepy at all! 🙂 I’m beyond flattered and I’m so glad I don’t come across as inauthentic. Authenticity has always been so important to me. I was one of those weird kids that never “got” sarcasm (now I think it’s funny, but it took me forever to catch on!) and always became confused when people weren’t straight with me. Anyhow, thank you!
I’ve been thinking about this post a lot. Like oodles and oodles. So much that I’ve realized the reason why I’m always soooo tired is that I have been blindly chasing perfection. Ironically, the tiredness contributes to even more imperfection (my poor skin–ack!). Thank you for this post. I appreciate your honesty. I love that your honesty is infused with humour, positivity and incredible insight. I also love your creativity–the clothing you make, your illustrations and recipes are a constant source of inspiration!
Thank you Irene! The perfection frenzy is so very draining…I think we all need to take naps to recover 🙂 “oodles,” incidentally, is one of my favorite words!