I didn't tell you.

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

“No one's life is as perfect as their Instagram feed.”

Nor their Facebook feed or other social media platforms.


Globally, the average daily time people spend on social media platforms is 2 hours and 24 minutes and Singapore tails behind by just 12 minutes. I am definitely one of the outliers, considering that my iPhone weekly report shows that I spend a minimum of 4h per day on social networking purpose. Time is “well-spent” in that 4 hours. Did I tell you that I love swiping my fingers across my phone screen and feasting on pictures of perfect-looking, chubby babies, beautiful couples on their vacay, Instagram-worthy food and cafes? Most of the people look radiantly happy and life seems wonderfully great and blissful for them. I too, feel happy watching them in their squares. 

Then, on one occasion, an ex-student of mine visited me with her new-born. During our mom-to-mom sharing, she told me that she was surprised to hear some of the motherhood problems I had faced. In fact, I had given her the impression that I was a very capable Mom who could manage my kids well and that my life was full of positives because that was what she gathered from my blog and Facebook posts. Immediately, I felt guilty that I had given her that false impression - not because I had purposely faked it, but just because I didn't have an accurate portrayal of my own struggles and teary moments on my own grid.

Truth be told, 

I didn't tell you about those times where I had days of cold war with my hubby because he was annoyed when I talked to him in a condescending tone. 

I didn't tell you that I was annoyed with him for feeling annoyed.

I didn't tell you the number of escapes I made to the toilet just to cry my heart out and feeling so worthless as a Mom while my children dashed around outside my security zone like they were ready to declare war with one other. 

I didn't tell you how helpless I felt when I had tried all the strategies the many therapists suggested in order to improve K's speech (and feeding, walking, fine motor skills, recognising and understanding number concepts, blending 3-letter words, etc), but she just didn't show any bit of progress. I had felt like walking away from everything back then. 

I didn't tell you how much I yearned for a heart-to-heart talk with an adult, especially during the 2 years without a helper where I felt really lonely. I didn't have the courage to share my problems because I didn't want to burden another soul with them. Instead, I secretly "let go" in my personal diary coloured with plenty of hate words and hand-drawn emojis to regulate my own emotions.

I didn't tell you that when I saw a picture-perfect couple shot looking dreamily into each other's eyes right after I had a heated argument with my hubby, I got really, really triggered and overwhelmed with self-pity.

I didn't tell you how envious I was when others were always pictured to have such a fun time with their little ones while I struggled to connect with my not-so-little ones. 

Each time it happened, I felt like sending a post to show my frustrations and depressed state. Yet, I had come to realise that some things are still better kept than shared, not for the glory of one's "face", but for a bigger purpose.

I consciously choose to lock my good memories on Instagram, Facebook and my blog so that I will remember how blessed I am when I feel that I am not. The online memories make me laugh when I am emotionally down and lift my spirits up while reminding me that I have had good days. Till now, when a Facebook memory of a past post pops up on my feed, it still warms my heart despite the number of times FB has reminded me of that. It helps me to look back and see the progress we have made as parents, and as a family. 
 
So, I'm sorry if my posts have made you feel better of me but less of yourself. I just want you to remember that, 

*This post has been sitting in draft mode since Jun 2018. Finally tidied up the post and published it for you.

You Might Also Like

0 comments

Looking for Something Specific?

A part of ...