every so often, someone i don’t know very well tells me they admire my highly publicized outputs of joy. that they like the way i always seem happy. i find this extremely difficult to respond to. it’s not exactly untrue. it is, however, a huge generalization that misses a big part of the picture. there is a lot that goes into my online presence. there are hundreds of photos that exist on the internet simply because i made the decision to put them there. my thoughts are dispersed across platforms. but there remains an attempt to separate the personal from the public, and a lot of that hinges on the uglier parts of life.
not to say i’m not a happy, plant-loving, sunshine-giddy person all the time. for the most part, i’d say i am. but everyone has their own schtuff, and even things as small as weeks of bad weather certainly affect my ability to fully adhere to my ball-of-sunshine persona that i have somehow unknowingly convinced people exists 24/7. everyone seems happier online than in real life, i know. but it is a strange feeling, opening texts from somewhat strangers that tell you you’re such a bright, happy person, and feeling like the total opposite.
when my grandfather died, i disappeared completely for three days. now there is a myriad of photos, poems, and other writing that has surfaced over the last 8 months on various platforms, all related to my navigation through this loss. i debated with myself for quite some time regarding whether or not i could bear to share the deep part of myself that was genuinely not okay whatsoever. i contended with the fact that i would never be satisfied by others’ reactions to my loss. eventually i decided to share, simply for my own need to release my grief from my physical body. words as a method of preventing the build-up. grief is heavy. community can help.
but! online community isn’t always community in the proper sense. it is impossible to know hundreds of people on a deeply personal scale. my public image shows a version of me that is not unsimilar to who i am in real life - but it certainly shows an extremely condensed version of myself. the few most exciting parts of me stay constantly on display, while all the masses of boring middle parts shuffle around unimportantly. the ratios are all off. i mislead people’s perceptions of me simply by choosing to display events of interest more often than events of apathy. sure, social media discourages the sharing of negative content, that’s true - but it discourages the sharing of boring content even more.
so i try to make my social image as honest as i can, while still feeling comfortable with what i share. but to be honest? not only does nobody like to post the negative (or neutral) parts of their lives - and nobody really wants to consume that media either. social platforms have pretty much successfully rendered “happy” media as the only type of content that will perform well in the algorithm. while it’s true that some sob stories still go viral, they all feed into the dreams of success after failure, communities coming together, breaking free of cycles. there is always a resolution, or the promise of one.
there’s something to be said about the shortening of our collective attention span. when joy can be packaged up in small, easily assimilated bundles for the masses to enjoy, the labour that comes with dutifully ingesting the content of those who struggle publicly for weeks, months, years? it simply becomes too difficult for the average lazy consumer.
chronic battles are not headliners. your grief is digestible by the public for one, maybe two days. the stories of those struggling with loss, chronic illness, long-lasting mental health issues, burn-out and exhaustion, poverty, etc… they’re too drawn-out. there’s no resolution in sight. and it’s not hard to see. even in the face of genocide, the world grows bored.
what i’m trying to say is there’s no real way to get around it. we all have a highly concentrated image of ourselves that has been projected onto others. the lives we display to the masses are simply our real lives with all the water boiled out.
that being said- the image people have constructed of you exists solely in their own minds. and thus, adhering to it perfectly does not actually fall under the breadth of your social responsibility. it is, at the end of the day, not really your problem. you are humanized in the margins between the two. and yes, it might be nice if we all acted just like our public platforms portrayed we would. but the every day isn’t all sun-filled skies and mountains for breakfast. i don’t wear orange ballet flats every day, or bake cookies or swim in the river or go to the farmer’s market every day. most days are, gratefully, a deeply un-picturesque routine.
this week i jumped in mountain lakes with m, i took a nap in the heather meadows above the icefields parkway, i wore swim suits and green overalls and cooked and played the piano. but i also wrestled with guilt from prioritizing sleep over sport. i got home from work and pushed myself through weeks of emotional, physical, and academic burnout to study for a couple hours each night. i cried for an hour after dropping e off on sunday. i finally mustered the willpower to clean my room after realizing i couldn’t walk from my door to my bed without jumping a little. i took the eight(!) cups down from my desk and bedside table. i didn’t read as much as i wanted to - in fact i didn’t do anything as much as i wanted to… i simply do not have enough time to do everything i tell myself i have to do in order to be successful. there simply are not that many hours in the day. i constantly feel guilty about not going to rowing, even when i run instead, i feel guilty about not studying enough, even though nothing will ever be enough. i feel guilty about taking breaks at work and about not catching up with friends as much as i should and about eating candy even though it makes me happy. however! despite all of this, i had a routine and it was stable and it kept me sane. that is what is important.
i try to focus on how difficult it is to exist without stability. without the mediocre and frustrating parts that tide my life together like glue. everything exists in comparison to everything else. bluebird days wouldn’t be so perfect were it not for the weeks of clouds that came before. sometimes all you need is to put your phone away and read a book before bed. sometimes all you need is to buy yourself overpriced crappy bouquet of flowers or a single stone fruit from the grocery store. i don’t know. i guess what i’m trying to say is: what you choose to do with the boring parts of life is what will matter most in the end. go on a walk by yourself. talk to your mom. eat a multivitamin. take care in nature. tell yourself i love you.
remind yourself that you are not simply made of the few things others get to see.
love, norah <3