We may think we choose what we see and what we post on social media, but it seems to me that it’s somehow the other way around. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to say that Facebook or Twitter or any any other social platform has a mind of their own or that their CEOs and owners have a sinister plan on how to mind-control all of humanity. However, I do believe we put a lot of effort into filtering and carefully editing our posts online; after all, our closest and remotest friends, acquaintances and strangers will be reading/seeing/rating this stuff. We are mindful of what others will say and how they’ll see us based on our online portrait(s).
I’ve been getting anxious lately because I’m seeing people my age or so moving on in life and I feel like I’m stuck. I know it’s silly to compare yourself with cherry-picked versions of other people’s life moments, but it still gives me the occasional sting of panic…
I’ve been asking myself over and over again, Why do I get anxious when someone marries or gets a high-paying job? Do I want to be in their shoes? Am I absolutely – 100 percent – sure that I’d love to be that person, not just in their good moments but also in those soul-crushing heart-wrenching ones when you feel as if the whole world is oblivious to your pain? Could it be that there are people in this world who don’t occasionally hate what they see in the mirror or in their bed or on their office desk and so on? I can only see people’s lives through a filter of my own subjectivity; in essence I know nothing about their lives just as they hardly know about mine.
I’ve spent too many days, hours, minutes – too much of my precious time thinking about terrible, apocalyptic scenarios that might dash my fragile life construction into pieces at any moment. Instead, I should have taken time to remember all my blessings. How come it’s so easy to forget all about the people and things I love just because someone posted a fricking beach photo on Instagram?
The life I’ve been given is a gift and I refuse to spend it by feeling sorry for myself.