Why I hate Instagram

As I scroll and scroll through endless over-edited Instagram photos… I get this pit in my stomach. I’m immediately discontent with my extremely normal life. I begin to envy the houses I see with perfectly styled bookshelves and floors so clean you can actually see the rug. I’m jealous of the people who’s lives seem so damn put together. Their hair is always perfectly “I didn’t try that hard” wavy, their kids have adorable hipster wardrobes, and the lighting everywhere in their home is that perfect bright white and seems to flood every photo.

Then I immediately snap out of it as my toddler yells “MUUULLLK” (milk) and my extremely sensitive newborn begins to scream. I jump up to grab milk and almost kill myself as I stumble on blocks… And Bob minion… And life-size Barbie. Yes. We have a life-size Barbie. Zack bought it for Piper one day while he was out.of.his.MIND! 

An hour later.. I find myself in the same chair.. Holding the same snuggly baby… Swiping through IG photos… Lost in the fake lives of others. It’s a bad cycle. I don’t think we even realize what it does to us until we snap out of it. Until we see through the chaos of our messy homes, and see the beauty of our amazingly normal lives. 

I’ve learned to embrace the messiness of my IG feed. I love swiping through my own photos laughing at Piper’s terd and Huddy’s meltdown. I fight the temptation to pick up the mess before I post a photo.. Or spend 10 extra minutes editing it so it looks like my tiny dark rental with 1 good window is actually flooded with beautiful natural light. 

Embrace your reality. Don’t get lost in someone else’s and miss the beauty of your own. 

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