Photo by Alejandro Alvarez on Unsplash

Somewhere in my youth I got it in my head that certain things, like home decor, had to match or you had no taste, no class, no style.

At my grandparent’s home, there were oak-paneled walls and a dark, walnut entertainment center. To make matters worse, the living room furniture had wood accents of cherry. My mother’s house was no different.

At my friend’s house, everything coordinated. Rooms had themes and flair. Brass beds, oak everything, antique decor, on purpose. I wanted to move in.

I’ve wrestled with this weirdness most of my life. I go to a bathroom and notice the door knob is brass, the sink fixtures silver, the cabinet handles black, the wall outlet covers are copper. Nothing matches. I feel unsettled for reasons unknown.

Somehow I’m not good enough to have arranged for everything to be matched perfect upon installation in my home. Or I haven’t taken the time to fix it. What kind of person am I?

Don’t get me wrong here. This isn’t something constantly at the forefront of my mind or an incessant worry. Sure, I’m writing about it, but stick with me. I’ll get to the point soon.

This irrational notion has always been a part of who I am. An old, familiar belief, dormant, that wakes now and then, usually when I’m not dealing well with other life issues. I fixate on the material pieces of my life that don’t match and I channel my…