I’ve wanted to own a white sofa for years, for no other reason than I find them visually pleasing and tasteful. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve researched the best ones, stalked them on Pinterest, and even gone as far as to add one to my online cart only to find my common sense making me remove it over and over again. True story.
I’m in a season where owning a white sofa wouldn’t be the wisest decision. Besides the fact that we have perfectly functional sectional with a few more years’ worth of wear left in her, there are children and Cheetos in my home currently, and it makes approximately zero sense to try to successfully keep the two apart. Because while I am diligent(ish) about making our children eat in the kitchen, it will take that one time that I fail to supervise them and suddenly there are greasy, orange fingerprints marring that pristine white fabric and mama will lose her ever-loving mind. There’s also the one time someone doesn’t take off his muddy soccer uniform before plopping down, or the one time someone with a cold decides to run his or her snotty face across the arm of the sofa, or the one time someone spills his entire Solo cup of Coke all over the cushion. These are not hypothetical situations, friends. I am all-too-familiar with each of them. (Also, I am well aware that IKEA offers a very durable white couch with easily washable covers…but laundry also isn’t my strong suit. So.)
Despite the fact that I probably won’t own a white couch any time soon, I’m forever drawn to white. I love white kitchens and white tees and white subway tile and white cabinets and white shelves and white walls and white sheets. Give me all the things white, bright, clean, and crisp. White is my aesthetic love language.
But, white space? THAT is my struggle.
To the artist and designer, white space is “the portion of the page left unmarked; the space between graphics, margins and gutters. It is the space between columns, between lines of type or figures that provides visual breathing room for the eye. Whitespace [creates] legibility…interaction…balance…separation…” (source).
Unmarked. Space between. Margins. Breathing room. Legibility. Interaction. Balance. Separation.
Yeah. That? That kind of white? I’ve got none of that.
My life isn’t jiving. There are red flags waving wildly, indicating that I need more white space. I’m not doing the things I love, the things I feel called to do, the things that turn days into a life. And, I don’t like it.
What I don’t like about myself lately is that work life has spilled into my home life. There’s no buffer between Work Abby and Mom Abby and Wife Abby. They’re all the same. There is no white space.
Here’s the thing: the white space exists already. It’s in my life. I know it. I’ve just allowed the white space to be clouded with other things – social media, podcasts, e-courses, etc. I’ve subscribed to a life of constant doing instead of living and that has to change. Not tomorrow, not next week. Today.
So, I’m going to find the unmarked. The space between. The margins. The breathing room. The legibility. The interaction. The balance. The separation. I’m going to find my white space.
As I step into that, I’ll be taking a break from social media. Maybe it’ll be 48-hours, maybe it will be a week, maybe it will be a month. Who knows? I just need a break to reevaluate and reprioritize. Pivot, as they say.
In the meantime, I’ll still be working and blogging and doing all the other things. And, if you see a post pop up it’s because I have a bot that is auto-posting (hello, Planoly) or a VA who’s sharing on my behalf (work smarter, not harder).
To my Morning Wake Up Walk Enthusiasts, don’t fret, I’ll be back asking about snoozes and heading to the pantry for bars and rubbing sleep from eyes before the sun rises soon 🙂
Thanks for the [white]space.
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