Holy Truth > Insta lies

I've been thinking a lot recently about how I consume Instagram and how that makes me feel. Long story short, not good.

​Up until now, I've allowed Instagram to tell me what I am and who I am: not smart enough, not pretty enough, not loved enough, not healthy enough, not rich enough, not popular enough. I've allowed a man-made app ordain who I am, when there's a God-spoken book right next to my bed that tells me the truth: fearfully and wonderfully made in His image, precious, gifted, fought for, filled with sufficient grace, loved.  

Instagram as a Highlights Reel
We all know it's a highlights reel. Yet I can't help feeling lonely when I see friends hanging out without me, or jealous when I see sunny beaches when I'm buried under books and session plans. I can't help but compare myself to those girls showing their abs in a gym mirror. 
I know that people are just posting the good days, so why do I continue to fall into this trap of unworthiness? Why do I continue to scroll endlessly, consuming every last bit?

I'll tell you why. It's because I want to be part of something, I want to join in with what everyone else is a part of. I want people to see I'm achieving things, that I'm studying and working and keeping a home too. I want people to see that I go to the gym, I hang out with friends and family, how I live in a beautiful city and I visit new places. 

I show pictures of my study-space set-up, before I've even got round to doing any work. I post selfies when I don't feel like smiling. I post pictures of the beautiful hills I've just climbed, but not with the truthful caption about how freezing I was, how I got my favourite shoes muddy or how my brothers wound me up. I post pictures of my beautifully snug flat, featuring lit candles, books, food and general tidiness. I don't post a picture of my sitting on the sofa in the lounge that needs a good clean, crying about how I've just got home from work with a dozen stories to tell but nobody to tell them to. 

Part of me wants to put more of this on my feed. All of me wishes people I follow did too. I don't mean always posting crying selfies, oversharing and becoming too vulnerable. However, I wonder how many people post selfies with a happy caption, but have actually had a really horrible week - they don't have nice clothes on or a full face of makeup, but actually have a tear-stained face and are in joggers and a very old top that's crying out to be washed. I wonder how many people post 'throwbacks' to their summer holiday, because they wish they were there rather than sitting in classes they don't understand and taking exams they can't get more than an E in. I wonder how many people post pictures of their friends, but before they went out they felt sick with anxiety. 

Up until now, I've allowed Instagram to tell me what I am and who I am: not smart enough, not pretty enough, not loved enough, not healthy enough, not rich enough, not popular enough. I've allowed a man-made app ordain who I am, when there's a God-spoken book right next to my bed that tells me the truth: fearfully and wonderfully made in His image, precious, gifted, fought for, filled with sufficient grace, loved.