Posting pits

Life in itself isn’t perfect. But it gives us perfect moments. Those are the ones we typically share. Because those are the ones that bring joy, delight and make us smile. Life was meant to be shared. It’s just become a heck of a lot easier to do that with social media. New job? Awesome. Tropical vacation? Fun. Adorable kiddos? Yes. Night out with friends? Holla. But it’s that same kind of sharing that sometimes alienates others. It can be the untimely salt in a wound. With or without effort.

A friend is going through a hard time. She’s feeling defeated by life. And fighting a whirlwind of unfortunate events. She doesn’t like to open up Facebook very much because she’s tired of seeing everyone’s “happy posts.” And here is what I had to say.

Facebook is just a snapshot of our life. Posting the likable moments does not mean we aren’t struggling with the intricacies of life. Shedding tears of defeat. Clenching fists in frustration. Feeling exhausted beyond belief. Or cursing loudly in our homes. But these aren’t things anyone wants to share. And it’s not what Facebook should be about. Can you imagine how horrifying it would be if people constantly posted all the $hit they were going through?! I mean, if that’s what we’re going for…

In the last week I’ve had to fish out poop from the bathtub with my bare hands. Twice. I’ve had to clean poop off the wall. {Don’t even ask}. And I’ve had to clean poop out of my hair. When my son can’t wash his hands like a normal person but is always in a hurry and splashes water ALL OVER the mirror, the floor and the wall. EVERY. FREAKING. TIME. It’s staining the paint and it makes me want to drop kick him. Because it doesn’t matter that I’ve told him a million times to slow down and knock it off. My husband makes these god-awful sounds in his sleep and it makes me want to punch him in the face. Seriously. Horrendous. Between that and his obnoxious snoring, I rarely get a good night’s rest. He is also the world’s most forgetful person so more often than not I feel like I have three children, instead of two. It’s not cute. At all. And as I sit here and type this, you would have just heard me yell at my oldest and due to his behavior, he’s grounded from his tablet for the weekend. Also, if he stomps up the stairs and wakes up his little sister, it will be much longer. Ah yes. Killing it here with that whole happy life thing.

I have skeletons in my closet. I struggle with internal demons. And I suffer from depression and anxiety. Even though I take medication there are still stretches of days when I don’t want to leave the house. And I can assure you that I’m not a pretty sight when I haven’t showered for a couple days. But those aren’t the kinds of things I want (or need) to share with everyone. It doesn’t mean I’m fake. It just means I’m discretionary. And even though I’m not including the crappy stuff in my Facebook feed, it does not mean I’m not like you. In fact, it means I’m a lot like you. Life is about the moments. The good ones. The bad ones. And all the ones in between. Social media gives us an opportunity to share some of those. It’s not meant to intimidate, hurt or slay. If it is, then we should probably talk about deleting those people from your virtual world.  

Of course I included a more personal testament, encouraged her, lifted her in prayer and succeeded in making her laugh. Love matters. Facebook does not.

Try to remember that life really is a bowl of cherries. With obnoxious pits. And juice that stains. They can be messy. Sweet. Sour. And a pain in the ass to eat. But we’re not going to take a video of all of that. Just a photo of the pretty bowl.

posting-pits

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