Hidden Struggles

Since social media became a “thing,” I have been known to be a poster—not just a random poster here and there, but a very frequent daily poster, especially since Instagram Stories were created.

My friends can always count on me to take pictures, post them, and tag them, and I find joy in capturing special moments. I look back at my pictures with joy, pride, and nostalgia, as these little moments I capture in my photos mean everything to me.

Instagram has frequently been referred to as the “highlight reel.” People share the best parts of their lives, leaving out the hidden struggles. I am 100% guilty of that, but before you judge, let me explain.

Actually, it’s not too complicated. I take pride in being a very positive, upbeat, and optimistic person. I try not to dwell on what is out of my control, or let my emotions spill over into other people’s already messy lives. I keep my social media fun, engaging, and filled with endless kid content that I can look back on with love. Please do not confuse this with toxic positivity, because we ALL struggle.

Last August, I found myself clawing my way out of a treacherous hole. My husband and two girls were diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder, and one of my girls was about to be faced with a battery of year-long tests related to this condition and others.

I cried. Man, did I cry. I cried every day for three months straight. I worried, I panicked, I fought the intrusive thoughts. I pictured what my life would be like, God forbid something happened to my husband. It sickened me. The worry I held in my heart for my daughter was paralyzing.

And in those dark moments, I found my people. The ones who checked in dropped off a random coffee at my door and hugged us all tight. I also discovered who were not my people. The silence was deafening, and that’s the silence that fills your head at three a.m. In these struggles, we begin to understand who is about reciprocity, compassion, and understanding. I had to stop asking why I always offered a word of encouragement, a kind thought, a DoorDash delivery, yet when we needed it, it wasn’t reciprocated.

Spoiler alert: We made it out more alive than ever. Life isn’t perfect, it never will be. But we are more educated, aware, patient, and equipped than we were before.

This is not a “woe is me” story. It’s a story of discovery and hope during an uphill battle. If you told me that this summer I’d be laughing, smiling, and truly enjoying every single day, I would never believe you. I could not see the light. But here we are, dancing in the light, soaking it in, with the people who carried us to it.