Under The Influence

This is a story of my first love. I met a boy when I was in sixth form and I adored him. It was magical...but what I adored more than anything was his parents house. It was amazing. It was three storeys of utter beauty. Every nook and cranny was filled with books, framed posters, art from the places they had visited. Knick knacks on every shelf. God I loved it. And I thought "when I am older that's exactly what I want my house to be like". I wanted people to be able to walk in and see that I had lived, loved and had adventures. Then two years ago we finally managed to buy our very own dream three storey terraced home.

But something had changed. By now I was fully ingrained into the world of social media. And every day I was faced with photos and videos of beautiful houses. With huge kitchens. Immaculate living rooms. It made me look at my house and start to long for more. I would enter a shop and become paralysed. Stop dead in my tracks. The thought processes I began to have were along the lines of "what if I buy the wrong thing?" "why can't I work out what is on trend?" "what the hell do I like?". I began to look at my strange little objects and wonder why they all looked out of place.

I like gnomes. Now back off.

Don't get me wrong. The people who have amazing and immaculate homes are wonderful. They have a style that is perfect for them. I would watch YouTube videos of giant kitchens and literally drool over the counter space and storage. I bought not one but two fancy rugs that I had seen on instagram. And wondered why the hell it didn't look quite the same in my house. And it's because quite simply it's not my style. I had been "influenced" so much that it had influenced the life and soul out of my house and the opinion of what I do and don't like out of my brain.

Rather than merely taking inspiration from the online world I began to feel disappointed in my own world. Until it dawned on me what a f*cking waste of time that is. I have a lovely house. It provides warmth and shelter for my children. The corridors ring with laughter. The walls bear the scars of felt tip accidents and muddy dog tail prints. Beaming photos smile out from every shelf. And each room contains one or two knick knacks from far away places or a gift from a loved one. Who picked something out for me on the basis that I love filling my rooms with treasures.

I collect ceramics. Like an utter geek. IT BRINGS ME JOY

So that's it for me. I will still drool over storage as that's my drug of choice. But my home is MY home. It's not huge as we choose to spend out hard earned cash on other things like far too many Disney trips. So here is the moral of the story. In this new online world, where thousands of images are thrown in front of our eyes on the daily. Never lose who you are. Be your own influence. Follow those people who fit into your style. Who fill your eyes with joy. For me I'm going to remember that feeling of the houses I used to visit growing up. With bookcases spilling over. Giant posters framed with love telling tales from the past. And a sense of home that I want my children to grow up with.