The following conversation was recorded on September 3rd, 2015. It is presented in its real and undiluted form.
No, I don’t like that one. Too many babies. People will think I’m just trying to shove my missionary life in their face.
Noooooo, no, no. I look like I have the World’s Smallest Head in that one.
I could use that one, buutttt it’s with a dude. Then people’ll think we’re dating. But do I want certain people to think we’re dating? Nooooo. (But maybe?)
Ew. That one’s just….no. Just no.
I’m on a mountain in that one…that could be good. Nice and nature-y. But then again, everyone and their brother uses the I’m On A Mountain pic. Yeah. Not going to work.
Yeah. That’s bad. And that was a real conversation I overheard.
It was between myself and me.
And I’m not even lying. That actually took place in my head as I pondered the idea of changing my “profile picture” on instagram. Not even Facebook, people. Instagram. That picture’s like the size of a pea.
And it hit me like it hasn’t hit me before. Just like…what am I doing? What am I actually doing right now?
It struck me (or God caused it to strike me, probs) that I could just pick a picture that I really liked. That captured something beautiful about life, whether that was my friends or African babies or the Chipotle I’d eaten earlier that day.
That I could just pick a picture that made me smile. That reminded me of this awesome life I get to live each day.
But that’s not how it went. Noooooo, that’s not how it went at all.
And I just sat there and turned my phone over as the waves of realization just kept crashing into me like a freaking freight train.
I have a problem. This is a problem.
Because this person is not me. I have so much joy from the Lord. Guys, I really do. I see him everywhere and I’m just like…yeah. God. Yeah. AWESOME. And I don’t wake up in the morning and put on a slightly smelly t-shirt and think, man, I’m really falling short because I wore this same shirt yesterday and maybe also the day before and maybe it doesn’t look quite as good as it did on day 1.
It doesn’t even bother me!
But when I think about all of you out there, shiz starts getting really real.
Suddenly, the game has changed and the rules are totally different. Suddenly, that same shirt that was good enough isn’t good enough anymore. Suddenly, I’m careful. I’m hyper-aware.
I can’t make that my instagram profile picture because it’s not good enough.
I don’t put on that dress because I know it kind of makes me look stubby (not good enough).
I don’t post anything about the song I really love right now because I don’t want to be “too christian” for you (you won’t like me enough).
I’ll say this because they’ll think it’s funny (and then they’ll know I’m good enough).
And so I edit and edit and cut everything out and reshape my words and life into something else. Because then you’ll like it. Because then everyone’ll be happy.
And then I’ll be happy, if they’re happy.
And the problem goes a lot deeper than just some instagram pictures.
For the world race (what I just did), if you have a really good blog, sometimes they feature it on their website. And it’s cool to get featured, but more then that, it validates that you are ____________. Fill it in with whatever you want. That you are a good writer. That your opinions and thoughts are worthwhile. That you are a good enough missionary/person/teammate.
Most of all though, it says you’re better than _____________. Than those people who didn’t get featured. I do call myself a writer, and I’d be straight up lying to you if I told you that I didn’t sit down to write most of these blogs and think to myself, “would this be good enough to get featured?” Not with every blog, but with most of them (that’s humbling to admit! Dangggg) I wanted to be featured and picked out and chosen. I wanted to know that I was that “good enough” writer, sure, but more than that, I wanted YOU to know that I was that writer.
Because once you knew how good I was, then my joy would be, as they (in the bible) say, “complete.”
And Facebook. OOhhhhhhhh, Facebook, you cruel and fickle temptress.
Like… where do I even start. Probably at likes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do a highly scientific, statistical analysis of the probability of a high number of likes on something before I post it. YEAH. That’s hard to admit. Hard to admit that I don’t like it when the I’m tagged looking like I haven’t showered in 7 days (…even if that was the case).
What will they think of me, if they see that? They won’t think I’m pretty anymore, they can’t after looking at that.
So I’ll filter things. Heck yeah I will. I’ll slap another filter on a picture like I’m slapping the freaking bass if it’s going to make my complexion more uniform, my hair lighter or my one, dark tooth look normal. Yeah, I have a tooth that’s darker than the others. You probably haven’t noticed, but when I see pictures, guess what? It’s ALL I notice. And it’s all I think you’ll notice, too.
And then, heaven FORBID you ever have a crush/ex on Facebook. Like…what a great form of self-torture. Talk about never being good enough.
He commented on my post?? OH MAN, he must love me! He really must love me! Oh, but did he just like that other person’s picture? OH NO that means he’s probably going to start dating her any day now. Oh well. It was never going to happen anyway. Or the ‘look how happy I am’ post that makes you want to punch your 13” macbook air right off the table in the middle of a coffee shop.
As my thumb scrolls down my screen of my partially cracked iPhone 4 and I’m, without even realizing it, evaluating where I stack up against every status (oooo, they said their. Should’ve used there. Awkwarddd) and every picture (dang. Her hair is like a freaking Pantene commercial) and every relationship update and video posted and life lived. Sometimes I come out as the victor in the court of No one Actually Cares where I’m the prosecutor and the judge and the jury. But sometimes I lose big time.
Sometimes, I’m hit with the superficiality of what I’ve let that place become. It’s a courtroom. It’s a trial where, even if I win, I’m still losing.
And yeah, you can tell me that everyone is doing it. That everyone puts their best selves forward on the internet. It’s just the norm.
And maybe that’s true, but should it be? Does it have to be? Can someone just be a man and call me out on this?
Because I need it. I need someone to call me out on the fact that I sometimes scroll through Facebook for like five minutes straight only to find out five short minutes later that I haven’t retained a single thing that I just looked at. It’s so mindless. It’s so annoying that I can’t stop doing something that I don’t even really enjoy doing (do they call that an addiction? I don’t know, don’t ask me I only got my masters in psychology).
Am I saying Facebook the devil? Is that what I’m really trying to say here? That Facebook is like that b-rak obama, some kind of antichrist?!? HA, no. LOLz. There’s nothing wrong with Facebook. Or Barack.
But there’s totally something wrong with me.
In real life, I want to love people. I want to love you. I’m not trying to judge.
But I’m starting to see my real life blending into my virtual life.
I evaluate you as you pass by, making quick judgments on everything from who’s wearing the better outfit (and these days, let’s just be honest, its probably you) to who’s hair is shinier to who’s thinner to who looks happier.
I smiled at you and you didn’t smile back! Ha! I must be more spiritual than you.
And I love my friends and being around them so much, but if they’re going to take a picture suddenly the joy is gone and the game-face is on.
Smile big, but not too big, bend down do you’re not fifty feet taller than everybody else, suck it in, one-two-three annnddddd release. Hopefully they crop my arm out of that. Ooo, and add a filter. Maybe even make that sucker black and white. Yeah, now I’m looking good.
But for who?
Certainly not for me.
In the past year, I’ve worn things that you’d have a hard time even conceptualizing in your head. Things your grandma would be embarrassed to wear. But have I cared? No. Not when it was just me and God.
But when you guys come into the picture, things get real crazy, real fast. I have to be good enough. I have to live up to my own, invisible standard of how I think you need to see me. (I don’t even fully understand what that sentence means, but it feels like the truth.)
Maybe you’ve even been jealous of me this year. Maybe you’ve looked at all the places I’ve been and people I’ve seen and thought, “Well, that sure sounds like the life.”
But you can bet I’ve been jealous of you, too. Eating your burritos and getting to work out in air-conditioned gyms and not struggling to fall asleep on the floor of a Laotian bathroom because you’re so physically ill and dehydrated that you can’t even walk back to your bed ten feet away.
And maybe I’m crazy, but to me, sometimes it just seems like the interwebs is this huge, freaking jealously circle that will never end.
Jill’s jealous of me sitting on an elephant in Thailand and I’m jealous of Kim because she’s sitting on a beach in California and then Kim’s jealous of Timmy because he’s moved on and Timmy’s jealous of that cat because, let’s be real, everyone’s jealous of internet cats and just blah, blah, blah, the cycle never stops.
I’m finding that, on these social media sites, I’m a person that is jealous/judgmental/inferior/superior and it’s all just plain u-g-l-y. I try to crop and filter and edit and reformat everything I do and say because, at the very, very foundation of it all, I want you to like me.
Literally and figuratively.
So what’s the point of this post? I don’t even know, but here’s a start.
I don’t want to judge you anymore. I want to lift you up. I want to rejoice with you. I want cry with you. I want to be someone you can always reach out to just to listen. I don’t want to be someone who’s life you’re jealous of. Those are the things I want in real life. That’s who I am in real life. Why should internet life be different?
Because, web or real, I want to be someone who loves and cares about people deeply.
Not someone who love and cares deeply about what people think of me.
I just want more of the joy, and less of the jealousy. Maybe I make this my profile picture because it’s a picture of people I love being ridiculous, and maybe I look crazy in it, but hey? Who cares?!
Maybe I post this scripture because I really love Jesus and it’s really hitting me in an awesome way and I don’t think twice about worrying if you’ll think I’m too “religious.”
I just want to be me. And the person I am by myself and around my friends and around God is not the person that I am when I sign in.
It’s not this weird me that I’ve convinced myself I have to be to keep up with all of you.
And, like I said, I don’t really think Facebook is the problem.
I mean, Myspace had a freaking TOP 8 where you literally ranked your friends in descending order of who you like the most, so I’d say Facebook is really a step up from that, if we’re being real.
The problem is me. I can’t handle it right now. On the race, we hardly ever had internet, so the problem was masked and muted. I could ignore it. It wasn’t a big enough issue for me to pay attention to it.
But now, when all I have is time and all the wifi in the land, a problem that was the size of an ant is now the size of the entire African continent and it’s pretty hard to ignore a continent. That’s just real talk.
It’s a big problem, guys. Even as I’m writing this I’m wondering if anyone will read it. What they’ll think of it. Even now, I’m rating it in my head, wondering if it’s good enough for you.
But, dang, enough is enough. Am I right? Can I get an witness up in here?
The truth is this—I don’t want to be so wrapped up in what you think of me.
Because the truth is, you probably don’t think of me all that much.
If I post a picture or some words or a video, I want it to be something real or encouraging or too hilarious not too share. I want it to be like a dinner table that I’m inviting you to—a place where I can share a part of my life and where you can share a part of yours. Not a courtroom where I argue the case for my life being better/more holy/more adventurous/more hilarious/at least as good as yours. I want my life to be a blessing to people. And that means all parts of my life.
And right now, my internet life ain’t blessin’ nobody, least of all me.
So this is just the official notice. Facebook and I are taking some time apart. And probably instagram, too. And probably also myspace (JUST KIDDING I totally broke that off like 10 years ago).
And like they always say, it’s not you. It’s me.
Only I actually mean it.
I know Facebook and I will be able to get back together again one day. Lord knows, I’ll never remember any of your birthdays if we don’t, so I’m kind of hoping things’ll have to work themselves out. But right now, I just need a break. I just need to re-remember what life looks like when I’m not living it for everybody else.
And that, my friends, is all she wrote.
If you message me or post something on my wall, I’m not ignoring you. I’m just going rogue for a while.
All the peace and all the blessings in the land,
Bree
[I wasn’t going to post this scripture, but like I said, I’m trying not to live in fear of what people think anymore, so I’m just going to do it. Look at me goooo!)
Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion,then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.
Philippians 2
