Away Message

The thing about taking a break from social media is that no one blames you (also, probably, no one misses you). People aren’t like, “Unfollow! You’re not committed to the cause!” Everyone is mostly like, “I should do that, too,” …which is what happened to me. 

I took a break from instagram because Scott was off social media and I was developing an inferiority complex sitting in bed next to him, both of us tucked under the covers, me with my eyes glazed over, repeat-watching an 8 second clip of a 26 year old sharing her anti-aging skincare routine, while he was turning actual pieces of paper over trying to get ahead on work. 

To be honest, it’s not like I was on my phone any less. I was just on Pinterest or Zillow doing the same thing I do on instagram- being convinced, often in 30 seconds or less, that there are things out there that I could do or purchase to make my life better. I was being conned into thinking my house needs more gingham, or a 90 second ab workout might remedy everything my four pregnancies undid. That ultimately, there is a secret I might uncover that will help me attain the unattainable. 

While my app was in the trash bin, the thing I missed most were the videos I’ve been devouring of this mother of 4 organizing her house. There’s something therapeutic about watching someone open new OXO containers and stack them, like a wizard, neatly in her cabinet. Just a small sacrifice of some of our disposable income and, voila! I too can see that I already have three cans of kidney beans. 

What I missed least was somewhat surprising. Of course no one really, in their heart of hearts, wants to be shouted at, via decorative bubble-letter text, about other people’s various political beliefs. I mean, I didn’t miss that at all, but I missed my own content even less; my own convoluted desire for approval; that grey area where you’re stuck wondering at bedtime, as your phone practically pulses on your nightstand, “Am I bragging or actually trying to tell a useful story?” 

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Have you ever scrolled through someone’s profile who has died? It couldn’t just be me wondering, even about strangers, what this was all about. What mattered and what remains digitally from someone’s life. And also, if we might leave behind our own curated obituary and highlight reel, then I want to make sure it’s at least accurate. Conveying:  This is me. The very best and the worst. Saying in one way or another, via organized cupboard, exercise routine or film photography: 

Here I am, trying to embrace what is. 

Maybe that’s the secret. The simplest and yet most unattainable part being acceptance.