Instagrammification

We spend a lot of time perfecting ourselves for social media - that's no secret. Filters and carefully angled snapchats with witty captions. And we suck it up like some type of addictive substance, the intangible we long for but can't possibly have (mostly because its all manufactured) - aimlessly scrolling and scrolling and liking pretty sunsets and videos of puppies as our own sunset screams outside the window we never peek through.

Honesty alert: I spend entirely too much time comparing myself to strangers on the internet. Their perfectly placed throw pillows and blankets. The precious little puppy sleeping soundly on the couch. Beautiful, homemade meals and all the right lighting from those tiny little globe lights on their favorite outdoor patio some place warmer than here.

I absolutely love seeing this snippets of others' lives - wedding and engagement photos, backyard barbecues, and friends reuniting. Pictures of babies and vacations and perfectly positioned sunshine reflecting back at me from your ocean view - I eat it up. And then, inevitably, my face moves from the screen and back to my living room or bedroom. And I see the unkempt shelf in the bathroom. Or the clothes I still haven't worked up the courage to shove back in the closet. Or the messy bun, smudged make up, and sweatpants reflecting back at me in the mirror. And that's when the shame and the guilt and the negative committee that meets in my head stands up and starts chanting all the self-loathing untruths I let tear me down.

The way we have evolved social media's use makes us unhappy and turns us into internal emotional terrorists. I believe social media has an essentially good core - to maintain connections with minimal effort. However, it's also grounds for comparison and envy and internal turmoil. It has this uncanny ability to take moments you normally find joy in and sick twist and turn it into a popularity contest. Who wore it/planned it/photographed it better than I did? I've paused to ask myself: Does anyone actually care what my new running shoes look like? Or about my day strolling around Chicago? If it's not on Instagram did it really even happen?

Why do I care if people on the internet think my life looks interesting? 

We don't see life as it truly unfolds when it's been carefully crafted - put through the arduous and very strategic process of Instagrammification. It's not people as they are - it's a distorted, calculated version of life, and I'm just as guilty as anyone else. I've deleted far too many photos where I was perfectly content - alive and happy - but convinced it wasn't social-media-worthy sharing because I couldn't quite edit out the imperfections of my body or face, which gives me pause: Am I only documenting this moment to get thumbs-up and red hearts?

It's easy to resent the supremely fit girls behind the screen and the perfect bowl of soup in the beautiful white bowl with the parsley so elegantly dropped right in the center while I eat my bowl of Lipton Extra Noodle Soup and catch up on Scandal on another Friday night in (which is pretty amazing if you've never done it). But the beauty of your own life is not to be ignored or cast off as less-than. Somewhere along the way I let social media become less about me and more about you. Not the literal you on the other side of the screen - the general YOU. Out there. With all the stuff and friends and fun I need but (I think) I don't have.

We've turned ourselves into little screen-addicted drones - certain that whatever is going over there is better or more special than whatever is or isn't going on right here.

When did I become so ungrateful? When did I become so narcissistic and uncomfortable and envious? I don't have answers to those questions but I do have a response.

It ends now. 

I'm taking stock of what I've got and when I take the chance to look around, I'm one happy girl. I have everything I need and more and with that knowledge, there's a power in finding freedom from the strangers I compare myself to in a non-existent space.

I'm learning to accept and embrace the little life I've built. It's filled with an 8-5 job, laundry baskets, and uneventful grocery store runs. I spend too much time and money at HomeGoods and Target and every morning the most difficult thing I do is get out of bed. Finding a bargain deal is my happy place and I eat wine and popcorn for dinner more often than I care to admit (they're just so good...). I will never be a party animal - you're much more likely to find me in the kitchen covered in cilantro or basil and way too much garlic. I'm stumbling into my own happiness - a simple and quiet existence fueled by my new budgeting obsession and a desire to see the depths of people's hearts.

Far be it from me to never post again or filter out that zit that showed up in the middle of the day. But I promise to share as authentically as possible. And more importantly to be more than a human behind a screen. I want to give you more than likes and tiny hearts - I want to be in the heartstrings of your life, messy and cracked and tangled and warped. I'm in it with you - unfiltered.