I Hate Instagram!

I really do, and I don't know why I keep looking at it.  There are about three people I follow that will almost always post something that leads to me in tears....and not in a sweet, touched way...in a "I-am-not-good-enough-and-why-can't-I-get-my-act-together-and-read-good-books-with-my-kids-every-day-and-have-a house-that-looks-like-that-and-make-my-own-bread-and-figure-out-how-to-work-and-be-a-mom-and-lose-some-weight-for-goodness-sakes" kind of way.

Their photos are beautiful and so are they and their children.  And they have these understated posts that basically indicate that even though it's not perfect, life is pretty good thanks to these wonderful children, books, home, curtains, facial creams, smoothies, etc.

Or there are the baby photos.  Sooooooooo many baby photos, and pregnant mom photos.  I understand.  Your babies are adorable and you love them and want to share them.  And you are a beautiful pregnant mom-to-be, and you want to capture this moment in time and share it with the world.  Why not? I would too! I didn't share pregnancy photos, but I shared tons of photos on Facebook of my babies.  But on Facebook you usually write something too....and you can just write something.  You don't have to have a photo.  You can use a computer to post.  You can share other people's posts.  But Instagram is about showing off.  And that's okay.  But I feel so okay about myself and my life until I look at my Instagram feed.  And then even though I know it's not real life, and a lot of it is fake.  And I'm definitely comparing my worst to other people's best, I'm still comparing.  That's all I'm doing.

 I'm not saying...."Way to go! You got pregnant! You have beautiful long flowing hair! Your home is a perfect museum! Your children are color coordinated and you look like a picture from a Lands' End catalog! Way to be!"

No, I'm whimpering, sometimes through tears, "You're pregnant too? I don't think I ever will be again.  My hair looks like a big bush that's a fake banana yellow color.  Wow, my house is so messy, and needs to be repainted, and re-carpeted, and re-furnished.  And my kids all had on shoes today and two out of three had jackets."

I hate that feeling.  I know if I stop and think about it, that Instagram is not making me cry.  The posts are not making me cry.  The babies and the beautiful thin friends of mine are not making me cry.  It's my own thoughts about them and my comparing that is making me cry.

"Comparison is the thief of Joy."

That's what Joy Jones said in Conference last October.  I love that.  It's sooooooooo very true.  I don't want to rob Joy.  I love Joy.  And I don't need to have those thoughts.

So what if I, first of all, don't spend more than a few moments on Instagram every week! And, second of all, what if I'm very intentional about my thoughts when I do look and see what my perfect friends are doing.

When I see a beautiful home, I can decide to think, "Wow! That is a really great way of displaying books! I want to try and make a fun play room for my kids! What a great idea!"  I can be inspired by others if I choose to be, rather than discouraged.

When I see a beautiful friend who looks trim and healthy and gorgeous, I can think, "Good for her! She looks healthy.  I'm getting more healthy every day! And maybe I can learn something from her about those green smoothies... or not, but I know that health and love and joy and peace and all the things we can't always see are so much more important than physical appearance!" I might even pity her just a bit, in a loving way, "That's too bad that she feels the need for others to compliment her to feel okay about herself.  That should really be coming from herself, because depending on others for a feeling of self-worth just isn't emotionally healthy."  That's an option.

And finally, when I see a beautiful baby I can think, "That is an adorable baby! I love my friend so much, and I'm so glad she has this baby and I really hope I can have one too someday, but there are so many amazing things I can enjoy today with my three beautiful grown-up babies, and I know there are so many women who haven't been able to have any children.  I hope they feel okay when they see these pictures, and I hope all women can be sensitive and have empathy for those who can't have babies.  That would be incredibly hard."

And I can think, "Wow! My oldest baby just showed me he has armpit hair... lots of it. That is crazy! Peter is growing up soooooo fast! He's less than a year older than our neighbor boy, Ben, but he's a head and a half taller, at least, and he looks so much older.  And he's getting armpit hair, for goodness sakes.  And half the girls in his class have a crush on him.  Wow!" I can think about that instead.

I love my life, and I don't hate Instagram.  I just hate how I used to feel when I looked at it.  Like about half an hour ago.  But that was in the past......