We’re told to dream big. To create vision boards. To scroll for inspiration until we know exactly what kind of life we’re building. But at some point, I had to stop and ask myself: *Do I actually want the things I’ve been pinning and saving for years? Or do I just want them because I’ve seen them so many times that they’ve started to feel like mine?*

At 33 years old, I found myself sitting in an apartment, staring at yet another Pinterest board full of dreamy interiors, and I wasn’t sure anymore: were these *my* dreams, or just the algorithm’s?

Sensitive to Spaces: Where My “Dream” Began

I’ve always been deeply influenced by the spaces I’m in. When I enter a room, I instantly know if it feels right: cozy, warm, welcoming, with music playing and a certain atmosphere. Most of the homes I visited growing up never gave me that feeling. I can only think of one friend’s home, a place I’ve loved for over 15 years, that has ever felt like somewhere I could truly spend hours and feel at ease every day. It was spacious, calming, full of high quality furniture & it felt light, clean and luxurious while still feeling welcoming and warming. But other than that I truly couldn’t point out an apartment I loved completely.

So in real life, I mainly discovered what I *didn’t* want. But then came the internet. Pinterest and Instagram opened up an endless world of perfectly styled spaces. And I fell in love, especially with Viennese *Altbauwohnungen* (old apartments with high ceilings, creaky wooden floors, wall panels and historic character). They felt aesthetic, full of story, full of soul. The algorithm caught on quickly and showed me more and more.

Slowly, this wasn’t just “inspiration.” It was the new standard in my head.

The Blur Between Reality and Pinterest

The more I scrolled, the harder it became to separate what was real from what wasn’t. As an entrepreneur, you will hear this one message everywhere: *if you work hard enough, you can have anything you want.* So I believed it was only a matter of time until I had the kind of home I kept seeing online. At least that was what my entrepreneurial mindset was built on.

But that fantasy has cracks. These apartments are rare in my town. And when they do appear, they come with their own list of problems: cold winters due to poor insulation, floors that creak with every step, outdated heating systems, and sky-high rent.

And even if you *do* get the apartment, there’s the interior. The perfect online shots are staged with expensive furniture, sometimes even gifted by brands to influencers. That iconic sofa? It might cost €3,000. For them, it’s content. For you, it’s debt.

It left me in constant tension: was I still dreaming big and manifesting or was I just chasing something unrealistic, not even mine to want?

When the Obsession Becomes Exhaustion

This confusion took over more of my life than I’d like to admit. For three years, I was endlessly searching listings, always unsatisfied with where I was. I felt stuck, restless, waiting for the “perfect apartment” to show up. Go ask my girlfriends or my husband and they will roll their eyes on the amount of times I brought up that topic.

Then, life forced my hand. Personal issues made it clear: I had to move. Not into the Pinterest-perfect home, but out of a space I no longer felt at peace in. And suddenly, things shifted.

My new place? It doesn’t have high ceilings. It doesn’t have those wooden floors. It doesn’t look like the boards I curated for years. But it gives me something far more valuable: home. Safety. Calm. The feeling of walking in and being able to exhale.

And for the first time in years, I wasn’t obsessing over the dream apartment anymore. Because I realised what truly matters isn’t *how* it looks - it’s how it feels.

There’s Actually Two Very Different Reasons to Move

This is the heart of it. There are really two reasons people want to move within the same town/city:

1.: You don’t feel at home where you are. Something about your space drains you. You know, deep down, that you don’t belong there anymore. Every little thing annoys you. In this case, any move is better than staying.

2.: You feel at home, but it doesn’t look like Pinterest. Your apartment works. You come home and feel good. But online, you’ve seen so many “better” versions that you suddenly feel like yours isn’t enough. That’s when restlessness sets in, but it’s not actually rooted in your reality.

I moved for the first reason and I don’t regret it. But if I had moved only for the second reason, I’d probably still be restless, chasing the impossible.

How to Know If the Vision Is Yours

If you’ve ever felt stuck between your vision board and your reality, here’s how to untangle what’s real from what’s borrowed:

1. Pause the feed.
Take a break from Instagram and Pinterest. The algorithm makes it feel like “everyone else” is living that way, but take it from someone who hasn’t set foot in a single pinterest-worthy apartment over the last 30 years: it’s just not reality. Most people don’t live that way. A few days without scrolling can already clear the noise.

2. Do a day-feel audit.
Live in your apartment without comparing. Notice when you feel cozy, and when you don’t. Where do you relax? Where do you feel restless?

3. Define the purpose of your home.
Is it for rest? For hosting? For productivity? For being close to nature? The purpose guides the space more than any aesthetic ever could.

4. Ask “why” for every want.
Do you want an open kitchen because you love cooking and hosting — or because it looks great online? The deeper why reveals what matters.

5. Focus on feelings, not photos.
Instead of imagining how the space should *look*, imagine how you want to *feel* waking up, working, cooking, resting. The right choices will flow from that.

6. Experiment small before moving big.
Rearrange furniture, swap lighting, add affordable touches. Test what actually shifts the vibe before uprooting your whole life.

7. Figure out which of the two reasons it is.
If you can’t rest, breathe, or feel safe where you are, moving makes sense. If you can (but it just doesn’t look like your feed) maybe what you need isn’t a move, but gratitude and a few small tweaks.

The Real Vision Board

Here’s what I’ve learned: Pinterest isn’t evil. Neither is dreaming big. But your vision board should reflect your inner life, not just the algorithm’s highlight reel.

Homes are meant to be lived in, not just styled for photos. They should be places where you can breathe, grow, and feel yourself.

So the next time you’re tempted to move just because your apartment doesn’t look like your saved boards, pause. Ask yourself: Am I moving toward what I need, or running after what I’ve been told to want?

Because the real dream isn’t about the right floorboards, ceilings, or furniture. It’s about that quiet moment when you walk through your door and feel: This is mine. This is home.

Where I Am Now

Today, in my current apartment, I know it’s not my forever home. My journey with apartments isn’t finished and I’m still open to that dreamy Pinterest-worthy place finding its way to me one day. But what has shifted is how I approach it.

I’m no longer forcing it. I’m no longer analysing every detail, obsessing over listings, or trying to control when and how the “perfect” apartment will appear. Instead, I’m choosing to release, to trust, to see the beauty in where I am now.

This space gives me comfort, peace, and the feeling of home and that is more important than any aesthetic ever could be. Yet even in terms of aesthetics, my place has its own charm. I used to imagine homes full of character and story, and my apartment truly has that, just not in the way I pictured. It features a unique layout, beautiful wooden beams, an open-concept living area, and a large, unusual window front that once served as part of a sunroom.

For me, the lesson is this: it’s not just about how a space looks, it’s about how you *feel* living in it, how present you can be, and the memories you create inside it.

So yes, I’m still open to that big, beautiful apartment showing up one day. But until then, I love where I am, and I know that’s enough.