We never want to tell our real story online.
Have you noticed?
Not the whole, unedited truth of it, anyway.
We use words like ‘authentic’ and ‘genuine’, but they come with a top-secret caveat: we want to show only the right parts of our selves. The parts that (we hope) will make people love us; that will see us appreciated and understood. We know we need to find our most magical elements
So far so understandable, but here’s the real snagging point: we are also terrible at recognising the magic in our own life.
I see it in clients and friends and students all the time It’s so easy to spot from the outside looking in.
The incredible jewellery maker who documents every step of her process; her mess, her mistakes, her materials, her design evolution, and then hides it all away to create an instagram page that looks like a perfect glossy catalogue. The fitness and diet coach who drives her kids to McDonalds with secret shame in a bad week, certain her audience would chase her out of town with pitchforks if they knew she had such nuance.
But I see it in my own life, too.
In the rumpled bed sheets and spilled-milk photographs that exploded my online following.
In the spikes in paid subscribers whenever I’m brave enough to speak out.
In my overflowing inbox after uncontrollably sobbing onto my Instagram Stories last week (thank you, lovely friends.)
It’s a lesson I internalised years ago, and have taught both insistently and consistently ever since. That the glue of all social media connection is in our mess and our humanness.
And yet…
Here I find myself: - slowly renovating a decrepit French farmhouse with obnoxious yellow shutters whilst battling a sleeping-beauty-esque tendency to unexpectedly doze off. That’s a story and a half on its own, isn’t it? I’d read the crap out of it!
The unprecedented January snowfall when I foolishly refused to pack a coat. The ground floor flooding so overwhelming that we just laughed and made paper boats to float in its tides.
The second-hand kitchen units that I’m feverishly collecting like wabi-sabi Pokémon from brocantes and sellers all across France.
The midnight squealing and screaming that dragged me out of bed breathless, just in time to catch sight of a family of wild boar.
Magical, right? The stuff Substacks (or YouTubes, or book deals) are made of!
And yet, when I’m knee-deep in septic tank overflow or crashing out for another unwanted 2pm nap, my brain tells me that this isn’t it.
This isn’t good enough yet.
Wait until it’s perfect to let anybody in.
(And sometimes, whispered almost too faint to hear: Wait until your body is perfect too).
Can you imagine how boring that would be?
Perfect woman with perfect health sits in perfect but boring house. Does not map out constellations on her thighs with a biro between glowing red mosquito bites. Does not jeopardise her marriage by suggesting that her loving and patient husband drive 3.5 hours to collect an especially pretty old sink. Does not run away from a (giant, possibly murderous) hornet in the middle of a live Insta Retreat class call. No surprises, nothing to overcome. If it was a movie, I’d probably fall asleep in the opening title sequence.
In theory I know it, but in the moment, it’s still hard to see.
And - though your brain will resist letting you notice it - I promise, it is exactly the same for you.
Your flaws and your nuance are not the things that will push people away from you. They are the magic human glue that will make them want to stick around with you, for life.
Here’s one of the secrets to life:
All those parts you reject? They are what makes you perfect for your perfect people.
They are the magic ingredients that make your own special flavour of ice cream. Not the kind of ice-cream you can find in any supermarket, but the kind that people travel far and wide to enjoy.
When this concept is tricky for someone, I like to find another example that they can already relate to in life. Maybe it’s the flaws that make gemstones uniquely beautiful, or the molten gold seams of a Japanese Kinsugi teacup. Sometimes it’s as simple as reflecting on what we want to give others the space and permission to be, or choosing to tell the most interesting story we have.
We know it when we see it in others, but there’s a good reason why this is so hard for us to recognise in our own lives…
The parts that we reject
The truth is, these parts are the hardest for us to see and show because they tend to be the elements of ourselves that we reject of ourselves the most.
I hate that my health isn’t bouncy and ‘normal’ - and so, despite knowing it could be a huge source of connection and support to so many - my instinct is to try and hide it away. I don’t want to make it part of my online identity because I don’t want it to be a part of me at all.
And that’s ok. This isn’t a post where I convince you to share parts of yourself you’re not ready to face, or things that you have chosen to keep private and personal. I’m definitely not in favour of flaunting our problems for the internet traction. I’m a huge advocate for sitting on any writing that feels raw in the moment, and choosing laterr what is safe to share.
I’m just advocating for authenticity.
I’m encouraging you to reconsider the rejected pieces; to maybe give them a second chance.
If this resonates with you and you’d like to uncover your buried treasure, I have some guidance and a worksheet for you ⬇️
Finding the magic in the parts we reject
Download the worksheet below, or grab the questions and answer on pen-and-paper, old-school style.
1. What are the parts of my home and life that I would least like to show to an online audience (or a visiting group of prestigious strangers)?
2. What negative do I think these things say about me to other people?
3. What’s wrong with them thinking that?
4. What would my best, most loving supporter or friend say if they saw these same elements in my life?
5. What do I want to give other people permission for, or be an example of in life?
6. What are some of my favourite moments in my favourite book or movie? What do these elements all have in common?
7. From an objective perspective, what are the most interesting or unique elements of my story, life or process?
As always, if you’d like to work through these questions with a little accountability, feel free to bring them along with your notebook to our next co-working call.
Here’s to the magic in all of us!
With love,
Sara x
A beautifully written post Sara and ohh did it resonate. I definitely love seeing the imperfections in other peoples real life but find it sticky in my own! Something to push through and see what happens x
Sara this is so beautiful & profound. Wish it wasn’t so hard to do in our own lives!! And you’re so right, it’s absolutely the piece I notice & see magic in for others.
ps: Love the paper boats.