A long-winded social media ramble

I don’t know how many hours I waste each week mindlessly scrolling through social media to gather news, stay up-to-date on long lost friends’ daily happenings, or daydream of far away locales, fancy outfits, and home décor. I, like many, am guilty of using these sites to only show a certain perfect part of who I am. Hidden from public scrutiny are tweets of my screw-ups at work, unexpected front facing camera selfies (yikes), or long-winded posts of the current state of the dizzying disarray my head is currently in right now. No one wants to hear or see that, or maybe that is my own insecurity telling me to keep the disorganized hidden for fear of judgment from outsiders. But isn’t that the point of social media, letting the outside world in, to an extant. We all want to live this picture-perfect life that we’ve somehow forgotten how to actually live a genuine life. We communicate in acronyms, emojis and slang through mediums that have begun to define us that we no longer know how to have meaningful face-to-face conversations.

A couple of weekends ago, I devoured My Friend Anna, a ridiculous story about a young woman who fooled people into believing that she was a German heiress, was able to scam businesses, and conned the one girl who believed to be her friend, Rachel DeLoache Williams, the author of the story.  A few days after, I stumbled upon the story of Caroline Calloway, another absurd story of an egomaniac, and I couldn’t help but think – is this what we have become in this digital age of constant life sharing? Nothing is authentic and genuine, and because of this, we no longer have the ability to differentiate the real from fake. It’s as if we are in this constant need to prove ourselves to others that we look to the  number of likes and followers we have gained through our beautifully styled grids, which obviously can only mean that we all have our shit together, for reassurance.

Our lives have become highly curated tiles that we will pay money to capture an incredible Instagrammable moment for others to see, or have mastered the monetization of that perfectly poised look by representing brands in a square shaped image, brands one may not believe in, but who cares, they’re paying money, right? Then, we anxiously wait to see the likes roll in that we forget to experience the moment, to live in the moment, and to just accept the moment as is.

Maybe we all want to make beautiful things, and we do this through styling a beautiful picture? Maybe we all want to be viewed as perfect, and we do this by posting that perfect image. And maybe we all want human connection, but instant connection, not something we have to build, we want it right away, and we do this by following and liking, but that’s as far as we’ll go.

However, on the other hand, there is also a lot of good that can be found on these platforms. It has opened the window into landscapes one may never visit personally, started the dialogue with people one may never have the opportunity to converse with, it has made us more aware of what is happening globally, introduced us to new people, and put smiles on our faces – if you don’t follow Tiny Chef or Simon’s Cat, please do so asap.

I don’t really know what I’m trying to get at here, but what I do know is that we have started comparing our lives to something unattainable, we mindlessly live life through a filtered lens, and we spend hours scrolling that we are unaware of what is happening IRL, unless we’ve just seen a livestream of it through our devices. Maybe it’s time for us to step back for a second and just be present and content with life as is, undocumented and unfiltered. Or maybe, it’s time for me to do that?

The irony is not lost on me as I shamelessly share this post on social media, hoping that the title is clickbait-able enough to entice readers. And I should share that this article is me pointing the finger at myself, as I am so guilty of the social media post, like, tweet craze.

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It’s okay to not be perfect.

Update

I am a dry well: I have nothing to say and no stories to share. Without my words guiding me to shore, anchoring me home, I feel barren and soulless. I haven’t written creatively in over a month, I don’t know what to write; I struggle that it’s not good enough or even worse, that it’s boring and mundane. The cursor on my screen mocks me as I type, delete and then try again. It is a hopeless endeavour.

Like a drought, this won’t last forever, rain is inevitable and so too are my words. I just have to be patient, and let this pass, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help it along the way. I will be like the farmer who waters their land during the dry spell; I’ll pick up my pen and write a line or two about the day, and I’ll continue to read until that eureka moment, then I’ll harvest my words, just for you. Until then.

Currently:
Anxiously waiting to play in the dirt and start gardening
Reading The Day the Falls Stood Still by Cathy Marie Buchanan
Listening to “Nice for What” by Drake
Drinking Malivoire Rosé Moira

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So many feels

As the days began to darken earlier, so too had my mood, which took an unexpected turn earlier this week mirroring the recent change. I don’t know why, but I’m sure the unnecessary time change, the sugar crash from over-indulging on leftover Halloween candy, and the [my] moon cycle had something to do with it, but this week was blah. Everything was too hard, I was so sad, and I felt alone.

After a few days on this roller coaster of emotions, I decided to confide in a friend about this funk and how to turn my mood around. Her words helped but I still needed to find the inner strength to transform them into an action.

“Every day I have the choice on whether or not I want to be happy and I have to actively choose happiness over sadness. Yeah, there are days when that dark cloud follows me like a shadow, but I’ve learned to embrace that dark cloud and accept it. The difference is that I no longer hate myself on those days I can’t get out of bed, the days I just want to cry, and the days that I don’t want to talk to anyone. I know that those days will pass, eventually, and in a way, those dark cloudy days are my body’s way of telling me to slow down and reset.”

I never thought of it that way, as happiness being a decision we have to continuously choose, I naively assumed happiness just happens, and it probably does, but when it doesn’t happen, on those dark and gloomy days, what do I do?

This question also had me asking “what is happiness?” Is it having it all: house, luxury car, money? Maybe. But what if the house, the car, or the six-plus-digits in the bank account is non-existent, does the mean one is not happy / cannot be happy? What does it even mean to have it all? Maybe having it all isn’t tangible expensive possessions, maybe having it all is simply friends, family, and most importantly, breath, the ability to inhale and exhale every day.

I’m a recreational yogi, I attend a community class at a yoga studio in my neighbourhood once a week, and one thing all of those downward dogs and warriors poses have taught me is the importance of my body working in conjunction with my breath. Some of the poses are impossible for my rigid body, while others are doable, but uncomfortable, and some leave a feeling of sweet sensation on both my physical and mental state – hello, shavasana. The difficulty of each pose affects my breathing, and there are many times I catch myself holding my breath, but it is in that moment when breathing is integral to the pose, and I have to consciously choose to breathe to ease that discomfort.

That dark cloud, the discomfort, and blah-ness of all the feelings, too many feels, crashing down on me at once is invited, but I will hit that internal reset button, I will breathe, and I will choose happiness, be it laughing with friends, taking comfort in the warmth of love from family, and by remembering to inhale and exhale when things get difficult.

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