The age of social media is killing me. Perfectly filtered and cropped pictures that hide the inevitable pain and anxiety and messiness of life. So much so that I constantly feel like my friends and peers are living these incredible lives that seem to elude me.
I feel like a frantic bundle of nerves all the time – barely holding it together as a founder, a mother, a wife, a friend. Even writing that sentence – should I feel guilt that I wrote founder before mother and wife? Or is that because I’m already sitting at my desk at 6:45am.
I should just Insta a cute pic of my headphones and keyboard and humblebrag that I’m already “up and at ‘em”. To what end? Maybe it will make me feel better about not being cuddled up in bed with my girls and dropping them off at school today.
It’s killing me.
Life is hard enough. I don’t need to see my childless friends looking fit and fabulous jetting all over the world. I mean, I’m happy for them. It hits a nerve of sweet nostalgia for when that was me. But then it just hits a nerve. And the thing is, I know it’s not that perfect.
I’m sure I was that B while I was in Spain with my family. I loved a lot of minutes of that vacation. As it turns out, our girls make the best little travel buddies. It was just so freaking fun to take them to get Parisian macaroons or dip churros into Spanish hot chocolate. Beyond that, it was the first break I’ve done like that in over 2 years.
But I was traveling with a 5 and 3 year old. So the feel goods run out after a while. When you’re sitting at your 23rd playground, in the shadow of the Louvre, telling yourself – that’s ok, you don’t need to go IN to the Louvre. Gazing longingly onto the glass pyramid is enough.
Or when you’re staying in the heart of Barcelona and watching all these chic happy people sipping cava and snacking on their tapas while you watch it from your balcony because you have kids that, you know, need to sleep (though I will say, the Spanish freedom to have your kids collapse into bed at 10:30pm is a glorious one).
There needs to be a better way to share the truth. The raw realities of our lives.
I’ve always tried to tell it to people straight. Whether they’re asking for career advice or start-up guidance or parenting tips. But a little part of me has felt bad for doing it, like I’m crossing some invisible, unspoken rules for modern social interactions.
Anyway, the perception of perfection is killing me. So I’m not doing it anymore.
The messy truth or nothing at all.