Sometimes I get sucked in…
I get sucked in by the images on instagram, the pins, the status updates and the blog posts…
I get sucked into the world of ridiculous comparisons.
I must be the only mother in the world who doesn’t adore her kids enough to take selfies with them and post them instagram.
Surely I am the only person who’s house doesn’t have a single corner beautiful enough to be pinned on pinterest.
I am most definitely the only person who can’t come up with a witty comment for twitter, or a facebook status facebook that interests anyone but my great aunt.
This is a mug’s game, I know it is.
I’ve been around social media long enough to know that you only see one tiny glimpse of someone’s life on facebook or instagram.
I’ve spent enough hours on pinterest to know that when I pin things I totally and utterly love, I will probably never actually do or have most of them.
I’ve written enough blog posts to know that you pick the best photo to feature in your article and to pin on pinterest, not the one with the piles of washing in the background and the fighting kids down the hall.
I’ve shared enough of my life online to know that there are many things you do not share, many things you will never share, because they are personal, or not wholly yours to share.
I know all these things because I am sitting here, tapping away at my keyboard, wanting you to know that my life is not perfect. My life is messy, and difficult, and chaotic, even if it doesn’t always look it online.
Yet somehow, even those of us who willingly share the messy, not so great, moments in life, are seen through the rose coloured filter of internet.
Even I think my life looks so much better via my instagram feed!
But it’s a trick.
It’s some magical internet trick that taps into our insecurities and lets them fill in the missing pieces of people’s online lives with the perfect details we are so sure they must actually live.
Let’s ditch the comparison thing.
The next time I feel myself being sucked into the world of ridiculous comparison I am going to remember that I am me, not anyone else.
My life is mine, my days are mine, I do not need to compare myself to anyone.
I am not perfect, nor do I want to be perfect.
It is the wonky, imperfect bits of me that make me who I am.