When did Instagram become > Memories?

Today was a rollercoaster. It began early and I was out the door before 8am for a massage. I don’t go as often as I need to but after a month of tough workouts, still getting my ankle and shoulder back into alignment and a long ass launch month, I was super excited for the therapeutic massage and my therapist I see in town has become a friend, she’s even referred me a house sitter for my upcoming trip.

After the massage I had a productive client call, got some admin work done and took Jackson in for a nail trim. In 20 minutes he only tried to bite the technician 5 times so overall it was a good visit. But about this time I began to feel punky.

At home I gathered my weapons and retreated to bed surrounded by my current favorite candle (blood orange), laptop, cell phone, books, Kindle, work notes and calendar plus a stack of magazines, some pens, my wallet, chapstick, tea, water, heating pads, pain pills and comfortable clothes.

I successfully lounged for several hours, watching nothing of import on YouTube and resting while I worked through some papers.

When I felt better I went into the living room and had a picture perfect evening. But you’ll have to picture it in your head because there are no pictures.

This time of year I try to keep the lights on low, I found that too bright or harsh lighting in the winter can lead to headaches easily. Instead I’ll turn off the overhead lighting and light up some candles, lamps, my library lights and, of course, the Christmas tree.

I was sitting comfortably on the bench of my dining room built in, with an extra pillow for cushioning and blanket to keep me warm. I’d changed into my new pajamas which are adorable and make me feel like a child on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa. I brewed a cup of hot chocolate on the Keurig and turned on the small space heater. The dogs were snoozing on the couch and chairs, each jockeying for the best blanket or vantage point to watch me work on a puzzle.

I was comfortably full after dinner but not stuffed, had cold water and hot chocolate, a puzzle and a Netflix show playing on my laptop. All in all it was a lovely, quiet evening after a long day of ups and downs. 

But even as I enjoyed it there was an insidious part of my braining thinking I needed to take pictures for Instagram. And, if something looked off, fix it. You know, pick up the Fastrak receiver on the table and hide it away, straighten up the blankets Wilson always burrows under and tidy up the bookshelves where I’ve been stacking up the books I’ve finished. Wipe down the countertop, vacuum the rug, light a few more candles, move the sewing project…

…before I knew it I was planning chores upon chores and why? Not because any of those things were bothering me or needed to be done but simply because it would make for a better photo.

When did chasing an image online become more important than a memory. Sitting and working on the puzzle I felt content. Thinking about sharing it I felt discontent.

This evening I was feeling better, thank you pain pills, and my muscles were relaxed after the massage, my hunger satiated, my brain stimulated, my clothes comfortable. There was nothing I needed except, perhaps, the desire to share it.

Why share? 

I go back to this question all the time. Why am I sharing this? As a business owner and leader there are many overlapping reasons to share on social including to showcase my work, share client wins, give people insight into my life, maintain a public presence, show people I’m funny, brag about my adorable dogs, teach something I’ve learned and sharing to connect.

This year I’ve shared about funerals attended, events hosted, sick dogs and dressing up for Halloween, recipes I tested and workouts completed. But whenever I get the feeling that I’m sharing to project an image of importance or bragging about my life I reconsider. It’s not that the temptation isn’t there – this is the digital age – but I am so sick of seeing it from posters with way more followers than me.

No one really lives in those perfectly Instagrammed homes and I’d much rather have more relaxing evenings and hot chocolate than online likes and comments.

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