For me, there's always a tightrope to walk. Unlike the professional tight rope
walkers, I get better at this as I age. I'm not sure there are many 50 year old "real walkers" out there, but I could be dead wrong.
As a parent, I constantly wonder if I said too much or too little. Did I speak too soon or too late? Were my words too harsh, or too forgiving? Did I offer enough or too much? In business, did I bring enough expertise to the table, or should I have documented more? Should I have made that extra visit; that extra trip, or is my client sick of seeing me? As a consumer, do I buy ‘top of the line' hoping it will last, or mid-range with updating in mind? Sometimes I simply make my decision based on choosing which side of the argument is most comfortable when I fall.
I used to stand on the edge of the platform, suffering, as most young folk do. These days, I take a quick glance left and a quick glance right, and start dancing across. I'm still on the tight rope, still prepared to fall, but at this point I grin with the confidence that I'll bounce, and any bruises I earn in the process will heal. Nonetheless, when it comes to my clients, I still have moments of "suffering on the platform."
This is why I love staging with a partner or team. The synergy of ideas is inspirational. If the job is mine, I can reject the ideas and do it "my way", or integrate the new concepts into the room design. If the job belongs to another, I can offer my two cents, and be fine if they're accepted or rejected. This is the premise under which I work with others, and it's a winner, every time, because the final product is what the client was "sold".
My favorite staging partner is my daughter, who at age 12 has a fabulous sense of color, space and balance. But she's busy and isn't always available.
So synergy, quite frankly, is a luxury. Most often staging solo is the only method that makes sense, and being alone, I sometimes get stuck for inspiration. On those early jobs, the negative self talk would kick in and say... "You don't know what you're doing!". "You don't have a solution here". "There's no one to help you". "Look! The sky is falling". 
So I built myself a Happy Bag.
The Happy Bag started as my lunch/dinner bag. It very quickly morphed into its state of "Happiness". For $7, I bought an insulated beverage cooler (that holds a 6-pack). I removed the plastic insert (recycled it), and filled it with things that can change my mood; things that make me happy.
CONTENTS OF "THE HAPPY BAG":
The practical essentials: my mini-first aid kit, Advil (aka The Stager's Friend), and anti-acids (lots of bending over....).
The uplifting elements: a ginger-scented body lotion, a little bag of unusual cookies (even when I'm in a pseudo-South Beach week), my toothbrush and a fun-flavored paste, lip balm, and a little brush.
The fun stuff: a tiny slinky, a Superball (for VACANTS ONLY), gum, fake nose and glasses.
When I hit that bump of confusion on a job (which I refer to - professionally - as a "brain fart"), I open my Happy Bag. So far, there's always been something in there to change my outlook; my moment. It was startling to realize the impact of something as simple as brushing my hair. Five minutes of Happy Therapy, and I'm back on the road to brilliance and creativity; for less than the price of hiring another stager.
So, these days, I take lunch in a brown paper bag.
Just my two cents, from
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