I thought hiring an interior designer would finally give me the confidence I needed to decorate my home. Instead, I ended up crying in my car in a Target parking lot, feeling like the biggest failure as a homeowner.

Let me back up.

I'm Sarah, and I live in the suburbs with my husband and two kids. We bought our dream home three years ago, but it still looked like a model home that nobody actually lived in.

Every room felt cold and empty. My living room had our old sectional from our apartment, a coffee table we got on sale, and basically nothing else. The walls were bare. There was no personality anywhere.

I kept telling myself I'd "get to it eventually," but honestly? I was paralyzed. Every time I walked into a furniture store, I felt overwhelmed. There were so many choices, and I had no idea what would actually look good together.

My friends' homes looked so put-together. They seemed to have this natural instinct for decorating that I clearly didn't have. I felt like I was failing at something that should be basic adulting.

The breaking point came when my mother-in-law visited for the holidays. She walked through our house and said, "You know, honey, you really should do something about these rooms. They feel so... unfinished."

I was mortified. Here I was, a grown woman with a college degree and a successful career, and I couldn't even make my own home look decent.

That's when I decided to bite the bullet and hire a professional interior designer. I figured if I was going to invest in getting it right, I might as well do it properly.

I found this designer online who had beautiful photos and great reviews. She charged $200 just for the consultation, but I thought it would be worth it to finally get expert help.

The appointment was scheduled for a Tuesday morning. I was actually excited. Finally, I was going to get the guidance I needed to create the beautiful home I'd been dreaming about.

When she arrived, she was perfectly put-together. Expensive-looking outfit, designer handbag, the whole thing. She immediately started walking through my house, taking notes on her tablet.

"So, what's your budget for this project?" she asked.

"Well, I was thinking maybe $3,000 to $5,000 to get started," I replied, feeling pretty proud that I'd saved up that much.

Her face changed immediately. Not in a good way.

"Oh," she said, looking around my living room with what I can only describe as pity. "I see."

She continued her walk-through, and I started to feel smaller and smaller with each room we entered.

"This sectional has to go," she said, pointing to our couch. "It's completely wrong for the space. And this coffee table... where did you get this?"

"Target," I admitted quietly.

She literally winced.

"The problem is," she continued, "you're going to need to start completely over. Your existing furniture is, well... it's not going to work with any cohesive design plan."

My heart sank. This was the furniture we'd carefully picked out when we moved in. It wasn't fancy, but it was comfortable and we liked it.

"What would you estimate the total cost to be?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"For a proper redesign that would actually look professional? You're looking at a minimum of $12,000 to $15,000. That's just for the main living areas."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. We didn't have that kind of money. And even if we did, the way she was talking about our current furniture made me feel like we had terrible taste.

"I understand that's a significant investment," she said, not unkindly but not exactly warmly either. "But if you want your home to look like it was designed by a professional, you really can't cut corners on quality pieces."

She spent another twenty minutes explaining everything that was wrong with our current setup. The scale was all wrong. The colors didn't work together. The style was "confused." Nothing we owned would work in a "real" design plan.

By the time she left, I felt completely defeated. I wrote her a check for $200 and watched her drive away in her BMW, knowing I'd never be able to afford her services.

I sat in my living room afterward, looking at our sectional and coffee table with completely different eyes. Instead of seeing furniture we loved, all I could see was everything she'd pointed out as wrong.

The worst part? I still had no idea how to fix any of it. She'd identified all the problems but hadn't given me any solutions I could actually afford.

That afternoon, I ended up at Target, wandering around the home section, feeling more lost than ever. I started crying right there in the throw pillow aisle. A concerned employee asked if I was okay, and I was too embarrassed to explain.

I finished my crying in the car, feeling like the biggest failure. Here I was, a grown woman who couldn't even figure out how to make her own home look decent. And according to the "expert," everything I'd chosen was wrong.

I called my friend Lisa that night, still feeling sorry for myself.

"I just don't understand how some people make it look so easy," I told her. "I feel like I'm missing some gene that makes you good at decorating."

"Sarah," Lisa said, "that designer sounds awful. You don't need to throw away everything you own to have a beautiful home."

"But she's the expert," I protested. "She went to school for this stuff."

"Look," Lisa said, "I used to feel the same way. Remember how my place looked when I first moved in? I was so overwhelmed, I lived with empty walls for two years."

I did remember. Lisa's apartment used to be pretty bare.

"What changed?" I asked.

"I found this company called Revel Sofa. They're completely different from traditional designers. Instead of making you feel stupid, they actually teach you how to make good decisions."

She explained how she'd worked with one of their consultants, and it was nothing like my experience.

"The consultant came to my place and the first thing she said was, 'I love that you chose comfort as your priority. Now let's build on what you already have.'"

Lisa told me how the Revel approach was totally different. Instead of throwing everything out and starting over, they helped her understand why certain things worked and others didn't.

"They don't just tell you what to buy," she said. "They teach you how to think about your space. Now I can walk into any store and know what will work in my home."

The more Lisa talked, the more interested I became. This sounded like exactly what I needed – someone who would build my confidence instead of tearing it down.

"The best part," Lisa continued, "is that they work with real budgets. My consultant helped me create a beautiful living room for under $2,000. And half of that was keeping pieces I already owned."

I was intrigued. "How is that possible?"

"It's because they understand something most designers don't," Lisa explained. "The problem isn't that regular people have bad taste. The problem is that we've been made to feel like we need to think like designers instead of learning how to trust our own instincts."

She told me about something called "Professional Intimidation Syndrome" – basically, how the design industry has created this myth that you need expensive training and unlimited budgets to create beautiful spaces.

"But that's not true," Lisa said. "Most design 'rules' are just preferences. And most expensive furniture isn't actually better – it's just marked up."

Lisa explained how Revel's approach was based on confidence coaching rather than expensive overhauls.

"They start with what you love and help you understand why you love it," she said. "Then they show you how to build on those preferences instead of fighting against them."

The more she talked, the more it made sense. I didn't need someone to tell me my taste was wrong. I needed someone to help me trust my instincts and make decisions confidently.

"The consultant taught me this simple system," Lisa continued. "She called it 'Progressive Confidence Building.' Instead of trying to redo everything at once, you make small improvements that build on each other."

Lisa walked me through how it worked. You start with one area – maybe just a corner of your living room. You make one small change that you absolutely love. Then you use that success to build confidence for the next decision.

"It's like the opposite of what that designer did to you," Lisa said. "Instead of pointing out everything wrong, they help you see what's already working."

I was sold. The next morning, I called Revel Sofa.

The difference was immediate. The person who answered the phone asked about my goals, my budget, and my timeline. No judgment, no pressure. Just genuine interest in helping me succeed.

My consultant, Maria, came to my house the following week. The first thing she said when she walked in was, "I can tell you put a lot of thought into choosing comfortable, family-friendly pieces. That's actually the hardest part of decorating – finding furniture that works for real life."

I almost cried again, but this time from relief.

Maria spent an hour just talking with me about how we used each room, what we liked about our current setup, and what we wished was different. She took notes, but she also asked my opinion about everything.

"Your sectional is actually perfect for this space," she said. "The scale is right, the color is neutral enough to work with anything, and I can tell your family loves it. We're definitely keeping it."

She showed me how a few simple additions – the right throw pillows, a coordinating area rug, and some wall art – could completely transform the room without changing the major pieces.

"The secret," Maria explained, "isn't having expensive furniture. It's understanding how to create relationships between pieces so everything feels intentional."

Over the next month, Maria helped me make decisions I felt confident about. She taught me how to trust my instincts while avoiding common mistakes. Most importantly, she helped me understand that there wasn't one "right" way to decorate – just approaches that worked better for different people.

The transformation was incredible. Not just in my home, but in my confidence. I went from feeling like a decorating failure to actually enjoying the process of making my space beautiful.

Six months later, my mother-in-law visited again. This time, she walked through the house and said, "Sarah, your home looks absolutely wonderful. You have such a natural eye for design."

I smiled and thanked her, but inside I was thinking: I didn't suddenly develop a "natural eye." I learned to trust the eye I already had.

That's the difference between the traditional design industry and what companies like Revel Sofa are doing. One makes you feel inadequate so you'll spend more money. The other builds your confidence so you can create the home you actually want to live in.

If you're feeling overwhelmed by decorating decisions, or if you've been made to feel like you don't have "natural" design talent, I want you to know: that's not true. You just need someone who will teach you instead of intimidate you.

The Revel Sofa approach isn't about expensive overhauls or following someone else's design vision. It's about building your confidence to create a home that reflects your family's real life.

Don't let anyone make you feel like your taste is wrong or your budget is too small. The right guidance can help you love your home without breaking the bank or throwing away everything you already own.

Your home should make you feel proud, not inadequate. And you deserve to feel confident in your own space.

If you've ever felt overwhelmed by decorating decisions…If someone has made you feel like your budget is too small or your taste is wrong… Don’t believe it. You just need the right kind of help.

If you’ve ever felt like you “don’t have the eye” for design, you do. You just need someone who teaches, not judges.

Revel Sofa helped me transform my home, my confidence, and my entire mindset. And they can help you too.