I used to feel shame about my messy house. Now I'm focused more on the memories I'm making with my kids than on perfection.

• When I was growing up, my mom would keep an immaculate house.
• I was raised to believe that having a clean house meant I had my life together.

Growing up, I lived in an immaculate house. My mom was the type of person who would vacuum daily, always had a load of laundry going, and had counters free of clutter and dust. Before visitors would come over she would do a deep clean of our already clean house.

How you present yourself to the world, my mom said, reflects who you are and how the world will treat you.

In my mind, having a clean house meant you had your life together.

As I entered my adult years, though, I didn't have my life together — or at least my house didn't show that I did. During the day I'd chase after my children, who left trails of toys in their wake, and more nights than not I went to bed with a sink full of dirty dishes because I was just too tired to do them.

I've been learning to let go of this desire for perfection and focus on enjoying time with my kids.

My messy house makes me feel shame

Looking around my very lived-in house, I felt immense shame. In my mind, being a good mom and a good wife — and maybe even a good woman — meant your house was spotless.

I can't say my mom's example was my only reason for feeling this way. We live in a society that has a lot of the same expectations of women as were in place decades ago.

We're expected to juggle children, home, work, and appearance. There is pressure to be the mom who brings homemade cupcakes to bake sales, who looks unharried and put-together, and who keeps her house immaculate. As much as I wanted to be that person, I simply was not.

For years I let this shame haunt me. Before anyone would come over I would stress about my house, frantically trying to make it as clean as possible. Though others assured me my place was beautiful, in my mind it was never enough.

Things changed when I got sick

Then I got sick, really sick — the kind of sick that puts you in bed for months. I was diagnosed with multiple chronic health conditions and went on disability.

Spending hours cleaning before someone came over or obsessing about household tasks were no longer things I could do; I simply was trying to get through each day.

With treatment, my health stabilized, but I still deal with limited energy. Because of this, I've had to reprioritize my life and carefully determine what is important enough for me to spend my "spoons" on.

I realized that quality time with my children, my family, and my friends means far more to me than a spotless house.

It took a lot for me to make this shift internally, as I had a lifetime of believing that my worth was somehow tied to the state of my house. What I've come to realize, however, is that while I do like an organized and clean space, my home is simply where I do my living, and it is the living that is important.

Life is made up of moments making chocolates with my daughter, despite how messy it makes my kitchen; collecting rocks at the beach with my younger child, despite the dust they will collect on my shelves; and laughing with friends on the couch, no matter if the floor isn't freshly vacuumed.

My house is just where I live while making these memories.