Instagram is a big, fat lie

Reflections on the holidays and perceptions

Holidays. ’Tis the season to be jolly, right? The season of parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting and caroling out in the snow?

But sometimes, the holidays aren't always merry and bright. Sometimes, I feel less like decking the halls and more like Grandma getting run over by a reindeer.

However, this time of year we are bombarded with images of peace and love. Of holiday parties and festive gatherings. Of freakin' jubilant people everywhere. From social media to commercials to advertisements - the holidays are filled with cheerful families whose loved ones haven’t just died.

But the picture-perfect images rarely reflect the reality. The truth is, the holidays are tough on many people, even if their Instagram feed tells a different story.

I’ll use my own Instagram feed - during the most horrific period of my life - as an example

Looking back at photos from Brad’s final Thanksgiving, you’ll see a perfectly set table. You’ll see friends and family standing around our kitchen island, sharing stories and cocktails. You’ll see laughter, joy, and a whole lot of togetherness.

What you won’t see is pain. Extreme, debilitating pain that incapacitated Brad, imprisoning him to our bed for most of the week. What you won’t see is the emergency trip to the hospital, where we remained for the entire next week. What you won’t see is the heartache when we learned of Brad’s extensive tumor growth.

Christmas wasn’t much different. Photos show us smiling and laughing with our nieces and nephews. I’m the perfect host to the constant rotation of visitors, stopping by to spread cheer. You’ll see Brad and I dressed up in our festive outfits during our annual holiday “Get Frosted” party. You’ll see joyful celebrations.

What you won’t see is the exhaustion from a house filled with around-the-clock guests. You won’t see countless restless nights waking up in a panic because Brad was having a psychotic dream, where I had to determine if the dream was a result of the pain meds or a stroke. You won’t see me crying over a sink full of dishes because being a wife and a caregiver and a nurse and the host of holiday cheer was too much.

And New Year’s Eve was much of the same. In the photos, you’ll see a romantic surf and turf dinner — our favorite for special occasions. You’ll see friends joining us for an intimate gathering to ring in the new year. You’ll see living room dancing and late-night singing. You’ll see champagne and sparklers lighting up our space.

What you won’t see is the ache of realizing Brad wouldn’t live to see another year. What you won’t see is the confusion Brad experienced as the cancer started to shut down his organs. What you won’t see is a man in so much agony that he can no longer get dressed or use the bathroom without help.

Sometimes photos are nothing but a damn lie.

Whether you’re struggling because of a diagnosis, grieving the loss of a loved one, caring for a sick family member, or just loathe the pressure and expectations of this season, holidays are hard. They are full of triggers and negative memories and reminders of what no longer is.

And being surrounded by all those smiling holiday photos, not only reminds us of our own struggles, but can also lead to feelings of isolation.

Everyone else is happy, why aren’t I?

But here’s the thing. The posed family photos. The perfectly decorated Christmas tree. The outfits and the parties. They’re not real. Behind each of those pictures is a hundred different emotions. Pain and heartache and sadness, and yes, sometimes genuine joy.

So next time when you’re scrolling through your feed of overly jovial people or watching the billionth Hallmark holiday movie where — spoiler! — it all works out in the end, let’s remember it’s all bullshit.

We’re all struggling. We’re all balancing a myriad of emotions. We’re all doing our best to survive.

Looking for a community of others who get it? Consider joining the Forced Joy Club.