I am Addicted.
My name is Vickie (@inpolife) and I am a social media addict.
There was a time when I used to glimpse at Instagram or maybe browse Pinterest when on the bog. Not any more. I am scaring myself just how long I am living in social media la la land.
Yet this is not me standing up at a support group announcing to the world that this is a problem. I am rejoicing. Sing Hallelujah with me. Praise be to Instagram.
I have always worked from home whilst attempting to raise the children. Or should that be I have attempted to work from home whilst raising the children. Not sure which.
If I had a pound for every time someone says to me “I don’t know how you do it” I would have, well not that much but you know what I mean. The truth is I am totally winging it. For many years I felt like a terrible mother, wife, human. Something always had to give. If I gave too much of myself to work, the house was a shit hole or dinner might be late (ok forgotten). If I devoted myself to the kids the house would look like a bomb had gone off and dinner would be burnt.
You get my drift. No matter what I did. I felt like I was failing. Not one person ever told me I was failing. No one even implied it. I have the most supportive, brilliant, funny and wonderful human being as a Hubby (shhhhh do not tell him I said that) who never once made me feel inadequate or useless. I did all that myself. I told myself that. I judged me.
Yet here I am. Older and wiser. Thanks to social media. Thanks to Instagram.
When the gram started it was all about pretty pictures. These Insta peeps and their bloody picture perfect lives. Their homes were better than mine. Cleaner than mine. Bigger than mine. More stylish than mine. Fuckers. Their fashion sense was to die for however if I rocked up in the same outfit on the school run I would look like the lady from Mary Poppins – Feed the Bird, tuppence a bag. Not a tracky bottom and slouchy sock in sight and do not get me started on how amazing their coffees looked.
That is all still there. Instagram is still very beautiful but recently though, it became real to me. These people became real. It is like we have gone behind the pictures and something magical happened. For me it has been like a Narnia wardrobe moment. When you read beyond the pretty pictures you see some resemblance of your reality.
Other Mothers like me. Wives, like me. People, like me. Perhaps it was always there and I was too tired to notice but I do feel the world of Insta has become quite a tribe.
So there you have it. Instagram hasn’t saved me or anything drastic like that. It has helped though. My Insta is full of what I think are beautiful pictures but there is often a story behind them, a reality. Maybe even a whole blog post like this shizzle.
Yesterday though. January 21. Yesterday I was honestly, I shit you not, overcome with emotion as I saw many “friends” marching the streets of London. No. Actually, scrap that. These people are friends without the old “”. I may not have met many of the people I follow on Instagram but day by day they are becoming more real to me and some have evolved into friendships so no more “”.
I might even meet some of them and get drunk, not that I drink obviously (slight in house joke as I never used to drink but I do it splendidly now). My kind of tribe.
Anyway. I am a social media addict and I am not ashamed. I bloody love it. For those of have not yet entered the world of Instagram – what the hell are you waiting for? There is a whole world waiting out there. Go find your tribe.
Don’t get me wrong I still do a fair bit of acceptable stalking on Instagram too. Sorry @iamclaudiawinkleman and @zeebeezoobee @fearnecotton @joolsoliver honestly I could go on!! And on!!
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PS I have just added a widget to go straight through to my Instaworld. I know right – get me with the techo speak. Widget. It is widget – right??