Why I’m No Longer Chasing the Perfect Home

Next month I turn fifty.

A customer came into the shop today and told me she’d just turned sixty. We got chatting about milestone birthdays and how each decade feels so different. I asked her what it felt like to turn forty, then fifty, then sixty, and afterwards I found myself reflecting on my own journey.

When I turned thirty, life felt full of possibility.

I’d graduated just a couple of months earlier with a degree in interior design and I had huge dreams. I imagined owning a successful design studio, maybe even a beautiful shop of my own. I pictured a happy marriage, a home that I could completely redesign from top to bottom, and a business that would give my family security.

I wanted the whole package.

And for a while, bits of it started to happen.

I built my own business. I eventually opened that little shop I’d dreamed about. I had my second child. Life felt like it was moving forwards.

But life has a funny way of rewriting the plans we make.

My mum died.

My relationship ended.

I became a single mum again.

The business I had worked so hard to build wasn’t earning enough to survive.

As I approached forty, I was living in the same rented flat I’d moved into years before, raising my children alone, and carrying what I believed at the time was the label of “failure.”

Looking back now, I realise I was incredibly hard on myself.

I measured success by all the things I didn’t have.

The house.

The money.

The thriving business.

The relationship.

I thought those things would prove I’d made it.

Over the next ten years something much more important happened.

Slowly, I began dismantling the beliefs I’d carried since childhood. Growing up without much money, I’d convinced myself that financial success would finally make me feel secure and happy.

But somewhere along the way I realised those aren’t the same thing.

Peace of mind.

Good health.

Gratitude.

People you love.

Feeling safe.

Laughing with your children.

Those things have a value that’s impossible to measure.

Do I still want financial stability?

Absolutely.

Not because I dream of a huge house or a flashy car anymore.

If anything, the thought of a bigger house just sounds like more cleaning, more maintenance and more jobs to do!

I’m still living in the same flat I moved into back in 1999.

Over the years I’ve redecorated it countless times, moved furniture around, refreshed rooms and experimented with different styles. It’s become more than just somewhere to live.

It’s become home.

It’s given me something money can’t buy.

Security.

Knowing I’m safe here has allowed me to rebuild my life more than once.

So here I am, approaching fifty.

Still single.

Still trying to build something meaningful.

Still looking for the work that feels like it’s truly mine.

And yes… navigating menopause, which certainly wasn’t part of the original plan!

But something has changed.

I’m far less interested in appearances and far more interested in peace.

I don’t have endless patience for people who waste my time.

I’m kinder to myself than I used to be.

I cope with life’s twists a little better.

I’ve stopped believing that success has to look a certain way.

What I want now is surprisingly simple.

I want to do work that genuinely helps people.

I want enough financial security that my family feels safe.

I want a calm home.

A meaningful life.

And people I love around me.

That’s it.

Maybe this next chapter isn’t about chasing the perfect home after all.

Maybe it’s about realising that home was never the destination.

Maybe home is simply the place where we learn to become ourselves.

And perhaps that’s the most beautiful renovation any of us will ever make.

Wow this would be a perfect home with a lush garden and an outdoor office….but all i can see is garden maintenance, more cleaning and jobs on my todo list. Phew makes me sweat thinking about it.