The First Of 12 Months Where I Get To Make An Impact…
When you think about being defined by a number, what comes to mind? For me I think of that Special-K commercial where a bunch of women go into a clothing store only to find the garments they are searching for have no sizes attached. Because your self-worth is not defined by a number on a scale. Or in miles that your run, or dollars in your bank account.
But these obvious numbers are not the only ones that can drag you down. The number on the scale isn’t the only number that can be daunting. There are numbers everywhere that you need to let go of and send off into the universe, love who you are, what will be will be…
Friends on facebook. What a stupid number. When I jumped on the facebook train – what seems like a million years ago – only certain universities had the ability to join. For years, only college students with a college email address could sign up. Honestly, those were the days. Seeing my 13 year old cousin on facebook is enough to make me want to deactivate but I am as much an addict as the next guy. However, the number of friends no longer matters to me because, honestly, how much do you really know all 587 people on your friends list?
Likes, however… What is up with the number of likes on any social media outlet, instagram especially for me, carrying so much weight? Blog views, comments, followers on bloglovin’, on a bad day, a low number can make me question my purpose and ability. I sometimes question myself, Why write if no one reads?
But I have been wondering, what would it be like to love myself without needing any love that existed outside of what I am? Without conditions?
And what I am seeing when I scroll through instagram, filled with pictures of parties, city streets, and cats? How about photos of food with health related hastags and “duck-face” selfies? These things beg my next question.
What does it really mean to love someone else as they are? Am I really loving someone as they are or a pretend version of who I hope them to be? That person the picture.
The appearance of Statigram “year in review” videos really got me thinking about this. As I viewed dozens of 13 second videos with just about the cutest jingle ever, I saw people’s lives qualified by a number of ‘likes.’ In 5 snapshots, this was supposed to be someone’s year? 67 likes. 70 likes, 89 likes, 102 likes, 111 likes. I just had to create my own right? What was my year like according to Statigram?
6 likes, 9 likes, 11 likes, 11 likes, 11 likes. I seemed to top out around 11.
I decided not to post my “year in review” for everyone to see. At first, out of embarrassment. What, send out my 11 likes to get even less of a return? But then I realized, I’m not going to post it because it really doesn’t matter. Some of my favorite photos, the happiest parts of my year, didn’t even make the list according to Statigram.
I went back and looked at my favorite Instagrams and facebook posts. Anything that was a picture of my boyfriend and I made me really happy. Posts about a really good ride on Grady made me smile. My recent posts spreading my passion for the Non-human Rights movement. That’s me right there. Those are the things that make me who I am and I love them. You know who else loved them?