it’s 2am and I can’t sleep, so i open my laptop and start to write. this time of year is always extra difficult for me to navigate. the sun shows itself less, depression and triggers show up a bit more. each november and december i have to completely readjust / to work on showing up for myself, in a way that isn’t just survival mode.
i know this time of year can be unsettling for many, and many in silence. the version of myself that has been experiencing panic attacks, losing appetite, sleeping less, terrified of painting— she doesn’t show up in my art business. she isn’t seen when i post my reels on instagram. you see something much different.
As someone who knows first hand that life is not a highlight reel, I feel the gap increasing. It’s a weird place to live, in this gap, and I know so many of us are. In simplicity: Because of social media; friends, clients, even family members, having a distorted perception of my life, and even who I actually am. Screens place unconscious filters and boundaries we’re not even aware of. As a self-represented creator, there are basics that I must portray in order to stay afloat socially. These include the most magnificent gifts of my life: dream projects, travel itineraries, beautiful images and videos of the most impactful moments of my life. These relate to my work. These are something that bridges the gap between me, and you; the reader.
A few years ago, my fiance and I split. It was a grieving process unlike any other, walking away from a partner of 7 years. I was not only grieving the loss of him in my life, but my identity within that relationship. It was absolutely grueling and exhausting work just being a person each day. My world had imploded and I was working tirelessly to pick up the pieces. Because I had chosen to make this relationship extremely public and shareable on this app, many reached out when photos disappeared from my page. During the midst of this, I felt intruded on. Like someone opening the door on your most fucked-up, raw moments. Moments that, naturally, you want to keep hidden. You want to protect yourself. I didn’t know how to explain myself to strangers. Was I supposed to? Am I supposed to make an announcement or something?
I was at rock bottom, trying to decipher up from down. It was so heartbreaking to have to answer, message after message, and ask for privacy as I attempted to rebuild my life. When you are in a time of uncertainty, every explanation adds to that cycle of shame. I wanted to run and hide, and apologize to every person who saw the inner-most workings of my life. I felt like I had let people down just by existing. I worried I was letting others down, more than I even worried about myself.
From then on, I’ve tried to keep sharing on the internet a more sustainable, intentional act. There are parts of my life I have decided need nurturing away from the online social landscape. This is a difficult line to walk, because my work as an artist is directly tied to so much of my own inner world and experiences. I wonder if being an artist means I forfeit the right to keep parts hidden away for just me?
In the last two years, I have shared much less of the intimate parts than when I first started writing and painting. And with that, I notice a gap increasing. It’s difficult for us to connect to one another when you’re only observing someone’s best moments / it makes them feel distant / unapproachable / it creates a version of a person / not a real person. With Instagram, you’ve witnessed me land my dream jobs, sell artwork for a living, travel the world, and build my friendships with other creatives. You have not witnessed my heartbreak, months and weeks of debilitating depression and anxiety, health scares, breakups with friends, familial issues, imposter syndrome, difficult decisions, change, burn out and exhaustion, and so on.
The issue with social media is we are opening these apps each day to forget our own sadness, our own loneliness…to live vicariously through someone else’s life… even for just 10 seconds. The reality is, the people we are utilizing as an escape route; have all of the same reasons and notions to escape as us. We are relying on one another to be a numbing agent, and it makes us all a little less human. Having a number of followers on any of these social scapes does not directly excuse you from the complicated existence that is the human experience.
I used to find peace in sharing the most vulnerable aspects of my life on these platforms. I was longing for connection, and with so many of you; I got my wish. Here and now, I feel nothing but pressure. Stage fright. Because while I know I do not matter in the grand scheme of things, I’m not that important; I do struggle with a sense of shame for contributing to the insecurities and sadness that some people feel when opening these apps. It’s difficult for me to stomach the idea that, in order to keep marketing my work and sustain a career on social media, I contribute to a system that makes people feel less than human.
I do know that I am just as much of a complicated, confused, and a work-in-progress as the person reading this. I have no secret formula for working through trauma, building a business, losing a best friend, healing a heartbreak, knowing how to navigate a path in life. I'm in it, here, with you. And I loathe the fact that a part of my business, due to these apps, requires me to make you believe that I’m not. That I’ve got it all figured out, that I know the secret recipe to life. That you’re behind in knowing who you are, or what you want out of life.
It’s all a fabricated reality. We’re all just doing our damn best. Sometimes it’s the highlight reel. Others, we just keep our head above water. And if that’s where you are right now, treading– I’m right there, in the water with you. So many of us are.
I used to open these apps and feel inspired by not only my potential, but the potential of the world. Now I spend more time consuming, less time creating. Now I spend more time disappointed, than I do questioning and dreaming. I create perceptions of other people based on what they’re showing me, I make numbing agents out of someone else’s life. I beg people not to do the same with me. Most days I feel like I’m screaming into a void. Where does all of this leave us? What am I allowed to have and hold without showing the guts of… in order to have you understand that I’m still human?
With so many of us confusing illusion for connection, where does the world end up?
Are we still there, underneath it all?
More on this soon. Maybe
