My latest post on Facebook is an album of pictures from a wedding I went to yesterday. In them, I am strategic in where I am stood to get my ‘good side’ and they are filtered to ensure they look as good as possible. In each picture I am smiling.
My latest post on Instagram is a snapshot of pictures from a photo booth and again, I am smiling. I look like I’m having the time of my life playing with the different props and trying different poses.
In fact, scroll through any of my social media profiles and you would think that I go out with my friends all the time, that I am confident in my appearance, I have lots of new clothes, I always style my hair, I drink lots of prosecco and I have a happy, fulfilled life. None of that is true (well, besides the prosecco drinking!).
In reality, I stare into the mirror and hate my reflection. I can’t bare the thought of making myself look nice unless I absolutely have to, so I shove my hair up and that’s how it stays. I hate what I look like with a passion and it drives me into a depression, and I feel anxiety about any social events that I have to attend. Despite friends and family telling me otherwise, I genuinely think I am ugly.
I’m lucky, I do have a good life on paper. I have a lovely boyfriend, my own house, 2 dogs, great friends, a big family and a brilliant job. But I am so unhappy with myself that I can’t seem to enjoy all that.
I rely on my social media to try and portray the good moments I have in life and to fool people that I’m normal, I’m not this insane person who spends hours in the mirror crying and wanting to lock myself away forever. Social media damages my confidence so much but I can’t bring myself to delete my profiles altogether. I can’t be myself online, I can’t tell people how miserable I am, it just wouldn’t be accepted.
My social media is a big, fat lie.
But as long as nobody knows that, and the likes roll in, everything is okay.