I recently got a few emails from a couple of people. In one, someone said they were glad I shared about my Christmas in the psych hospital because her perception before that was that I was perfect. Admittedly, she knew I wasn’t perfect, but it just seemed like my life glows with happiness all the time.
Last night, I got an email from a blog-familiar face. He unsubscribed from me and wanted to tell me why. He said that reading the things I write sometimes make him jealous. When I talk about grace I’ve received, he is reminded of the knives in his back and the arrows close friends shot into his heart. He went through a tough time, and has a bleeding heart to show for it.
I responded, appreciating his honesty and confessed that I often unfollow people (sometimes those I know well) because the things they post – the Christmas party I didn’t get an invite to, the trips to restaurants, the awesome things that God does in their lives – well, it sometimes make me jealous.
And that is my problem. And I continually work on it. (Or I’m trying, anyway).
His email caused me to pause last night and wonder if I’m projecting the truest image of me possible online.
Is my blog the best place to share everything? Is Twitter a platform for gloating? Does Instagram have enough filters to make me look like I’m in my 20s?
I’m going to guess that all of you know I’m not perfect. There is so much I wrestle with: anxiety, control, envy. Self image. Self worth. Perfectionism. Anger.
So. Many. Things.
Let’s break the cases open, smash the trophies, and play around in each others’ celebrations and each others’ heartaches.