A Couch Fiasco 🛋️ & Being hard on yourself

Today I want to share a little story with you — especially if you have a tendency to be hard on yourself.

What I’m about to tell you happened yesterday, and I’m still moving through the edges of it. So this isn’t a polished reflection — it’s real-time, raw humanness.

Here we go…

For months now, my husband and I have been wanting to buy a new couch. We always said we’d wait until our youngest was at least five before making the investment — and here we are: all of our kids five and older.

My search began months ago. I’m not exaggerating when I say I looked at hundreds of couches (was I obsessed… maybe a little 😉). Finally — finally! — I found one online that seemed perfect. Big enough for our family of five. Comfy and soft yet stylish. Beautiful color. Clean lines.

I ordered swatches. My husband and I even did the red-wine test to make sure the performance fabric lived up to its promises.

After months of searching and second-guessing, I clicked ORDER.

Excitement.
Relief.
Hundreds of new decorating ideas bubbling up.

When the delivery date neared, I sold our old couch to make space.

And then something unexpected happened — I loved having an empty living room. It felt spacious, uncluttered, like I could breathe again. I love an airy vibe.

Then, yesterday, FedEx pulled up. I ran outside and single-handedly carried twenty-one boxes up the stairs. I was sweating while wrestling box after box into the house, but I just couldn’t wait to see it all come together.

Assembly took all day. Halfway through, a tiny voice whispered, “Is this too big for the space?” I ignored it. I needed to see the final result.

At 11 p.m., it was done. I took a step back, looked at the new living-room landscape, and… I hated it.

Not mild dislike. Pure, sinking, zero sparks of joy kind of hate. The couch consumed the entire room. All the airy vibes? Gone.

My stomach dropped.

Oh shit…
All that money.
All that time.
All that effort.
For this?

Honestly, I wanted to cry.

Design is one of my great joys.
Creating beauty in the spaces around me makes me happy and proud.

My husband looked at me with kind eyes, and I could tell he hated it too.

I grabbed my phone and checked the return policy — ten days. I emailed the sales consultant before bed.

But I couldn’t sleep. Midnight rolled around. Then 1 a.m. Then 2 a.m. My mind spun in a tight ball of stress (How will I re-box this beast?), guilt (Why did I buy a couch I never saw in person?), and shame (How could I spend so much money on something that feels so wrong?).

Now, rationally, I know this is not a big deal. Nobody got hurt. We can return it. Life goes on.

So why did it feel so big?

When I woke up at 6 a.m., exhausted and puffy-eyed, my husband hugged me and said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not a big deal. We’ll disassemble it together.”

I appreciated his kindness, but I couldn’t let it go.

Something in me kept whispering: You should have known better. You should have measured again. You should have gone to the NYC showroom.

Here’s the truth:
This isn’t the first time I’ve been hard on myself. I know this pattern well — that spiral where a simple mistake turns into a statement about who you are.

Once the kids were on the school bus, I laced up my sneakers and went for a walk (a walk rarely fails my mood). By the time I reached the beach, I could finally feel the tightness in my chest begin to loosen.

Throughout today, I keep reminding myself: Be gentle. Have compassion for your mistakes, your humanity, your imperfections. And honestly? Even after years of doing this work, it’s still not easy.

I’m sharing this because I know we all do this.

We all slip into cycles of stress, blame, shame, overthinking, and self-criticism.

You are not alone.
I am not alone.

No matter how long you’ve practiced self-compassion or letting things go, the practice is never over. It’s ongoing — part of our growth, part of our evolution.

So, if there’s something in your life right now that you’re being hard on yourself about, please remember:

You are not a failure.
Your mistakes don’t define you.
You deserve compassion and kindness from yourself — no matter what.

And when all else fails: go for a walk, breathe some fresh air, move your body, rest, and talk to someone who reminds you that you’re human.

It’s going to be okay. ❤️

Sending love — from me and the giant couch that I still hate (but am slowly starting to laugh about),

Caroline