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The Things I Chose Not to Post on Facebook
by Sarah Johnson
Updated: Sep. 26, 2017
Originally Published: April 18, 2016
Your seemingly innocent question glimmers at me from the screen: What’s on your mind? The cursor blinks, awaiting a response. What if I was completely honest? What if I just laid it all out for you to see, risking your judgment?
A glance at my timeline reveals a mother deeply in love with her family. Just look at my kids in their adorable dinosaur Halloween costumes, and their matching soccer uniforms. Could they be any cuter? And there’s my partner, as dapper as ever, snuggled up with our cat. How sweet is that? And that family portrait by the fireplace, where everything perfectly aligned and we’re all beaming at the camera? Oh yeah, that’s the golden moment. Take that, Norman Rockwell!
Don’t get me wrong, Facebook. I didn’t fabricate these moments. I promise they are genuine, and our smiles are real. These experiences happened, and yes, they were worth sharing. But they don’t reveal the entire narrative—not even close. They are just snapshots of a life that is infinitely more chaotic and convoluted than what can be expressed through polished selfies and trivial hashtags.
What weighs on me are the things I haven’t shared. It’s all the stuff I kept to myself.
You see, FB—may I call you FB? What I didn’t mention is that I grapple with my role as a mother almost every day. Between those joyful moments I post, there lurks a darker side to this life that doesn’t make it to my phone or social media.
What if I revealed that I sometimes feel an anger that’s hard to control? I mean, a 0-to-100 kind of fury. What if I told you I never experienced such intense anger before having kids? If I shared the deep-seated shame and guilt that accompanies this inexplicable rage, would you still want to know what’s on my mind?
Should I tell you about my anxiety? About the time I had a panic attack after dropping my kids off at daycare? How I cried on my way back home, parked the car in the driveway, and struggled to catch my breath? How utterly alone I felt in that moment? Is there an emoji for that?
What if you knew how scared I feel sometimes? How my thoughts spiral with worries about not being a good mother? How I question my strength to manage the overwhelming responsibility of raising these little ones? Would you respond with a “like” and a thumbs up?
That’s the kind of stuff I don’t share, FB.
What do you think of me after reading this? Will you judge me? Trust me, my self-judgment is even harsher.
Here’s what I’ve learned: Whenever I open up about my mental health, I’m met with understanding. Each time I lower my defenses and show my vulnerabilities, I receive empathy—a beautiful surprise every time.
That’s what’s on my mind today, Facebook, and I’m glad to share. If you’re interested in more about this journey, check out this post on home insemination kits, which offer great insights on the topic. Also, for those looking to boost fertility, this resource from Make a Mom is invaluable. If you’re curious about the process of artificial insemination, this Wikipedia page is an excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
The author reflects on the contrast between the curated, joyful moments shared on social media and the deeper struggles of motherhood, including anger, anxiety, and self-doubt. By choosing to be vulnerable and honest, she highlights the importance of empathy and understanding in mental health discussions.