The flat lay of an untouched latte, a journal with perfect handwriting, and pastel macarons.

The (confusingly high for a normal human arm) aerial shot of distressed jeans, a Chanel purse, and leopard flats.

The flat stomach and “dat ass” (from hundreds of squats, duh) while somehow maintaining a sweat-less forehead.

The “oh, you caught me hailing a cab!” while still looking effortlessly glamorous.

I think you know where I’m going with this. You’ve seen those images. I’ve seen those images. I’ve posted those images.

Rewind to a few years ago when it became the norm to create a backlash against magazines for photoshopping models and portraying an unrealistic view of what women are supposed to look like. It resulted in tons of media coverage and campaigns like Dove Real Beauty, and others.

As I look at the evolution of social media over the past year or two, it seems there’s something even more dangerous emerging. There’s still this sense of “the glamorous life” of women, but this time it’s sneakier than ever.

It’s coming from us. Perpetuated by us, replicated by us, glorified by us.

There’s this endless cycle of well her life looks like this, so mine should too. She has these shoes (and hair and boobs and career) so I should too. The comparison trap is making us spin wildly into a whole new realm of unreality…an illusion of what our lives actually look (or should look) like.

Don’t think I’m not going to call myself out here. Bloggers are specifically guilty of this. But - pardon me as I give us/myself grace - it’s difficult to say that it’s anyone’s fault. It all sort of just happened, and it happened for what was originally an understandable and even admirable reason. Part of that backlash against magazines and the lives of models/celebrities is what resulted in popularity and loyalty toward bloggers. Bloggers became the new role models because they are real people. Relatable. Trustworthy. Had attainable lives.

*slows down and stops self from continuing a tangent*

With all of that being said, this comparison trap and the ability to “filter” our lives seems to be an unavoidable result of the social media age we live in today. I can’t say I hate it because HELLO. Blogger here. Social media manager here. *raises hand.*

It’s Instagram. It’s blogs. It’s Pinterest. It’s a whole WORLD of being able to pick and choose what parts of our lives we want to portray. We’re able to curate our lives to look exactly how we want them to.

And then it’s like, can you blame us? I mean, if we have the choice, why would we post the more unflattering parts of our lives? Crying, hurting, sick…that would be just weird.

BUT (and I guess this is where I’m going with this). Here and there, I think it’s really important to remember our humanity.

I’ve always felt like if I’m going to have a platform where people are looking at my life, I have a responsibility to be honest about what that really looks like. And it’s not perfect, to say the least.

Of course my life is full of incredible, memorable, beautiful moments. Most of what you’ll see me share on GML and social media are those moments.

But then there’s the unfiltered version.

There’s the multiple jobs I work to make a living, yet still always feel like I’m hitting a financial wall.

There’s the times I look in the mirror and examine whether or not I’m seeing new wrinkles, followed by researching all the best skin care creams in an effort to avoid them.

There’s the loneliness I often feel. The sometimes overwhelming and unfulfilled desire to give and receive love.

There’s the lavender essential oil I keep next to my bed because it helps calm me down when I feel anxious.

There’s the times I wake up in the morning hating how I acted the night before. My “partying” is harmless (compared to most of New Yorkers, at least), but I loathe the emptiness it exemplifies in my soul.

I live in the past. I live in the future.

I’ve made mistakes that make me cringe in denial. I’ve hurt others. I know the pain of a broken heart.

It’s killing me writing this post because it’s so pessimistic. Where’s the encouraging, uplifting message? Where’s the moral of the story?

I guess the raw-ness and the honesty IS the point. This is real life. You might be reading this and thinking you’re less or more screwed up than I am…I’m not sure. But my guess is that these are the types of thoughts that go through most of our heads, but social media allows us to portray the complete opposite.

I can only speak for myself. Despite what I may choose to share, and despite the many amazing things in my life, I’m still a broken girl. Jesus makes me whole. He puts me back together every single day. He has made me strong enough to write this post - exposing my weaknesses for the purpose of reaching at least one person who can relate.

It’s okay to be weak. In fact, embrace being weak. In our weakness we find His strength.

It’s okay to be imperfect. Perfection is a myth…a boring one, at that.

It’s okay to love blogs and social media! Like I said, I know this post seems pretty pessimistic. But at the end of the day I still LOVE what I do because it allows me to connect with people and have a creative outlet.

(Even if that means overused flat lays and selfies. Owning it.)

It’s okay if you don’t love the same things as everyone else. But it’s okay if you do.

Know yourself, be yourself, and don’t be afraid to show that person to the world. Saturated, contrasted, brightened, sharpened, or unfiltered.