The Things I Don't Post

There’s a funny pressure these days to share. Every thought, every corner of your home, every little routine — polished, filtered, uploaded. I don’t say this with judgment. I enjoy seeing snippets of other people’s lives. A tidy bookshelf. A handwritten grocery list. A dog sunbathing on the porch. It’s all oddly comforting.

But there are things I don’t post.

I don’t post the mornings where I sit in silence too long, not sure where to begin. I don’t post the stacks of dishes I let pile up because I just didn’t feel like doing them. I don’t post the notes I write to myself on the back of envelopes — half reminders, half pep talks.

I don’t post the quiet moments that actually mean the most.

The other night I lit a candle for no reason at all. The room didn’t smell bad, no one was coming over — I just felt like it. And for a few minutes, I watched the little flame dance, and the world felt soft. That didn’t go on my feed. But it stayed with me.

I think there’s a beauty in the unshared. A kind of sacredness. Like keeping a secret with yourself.

I’m not against sharing. In fact, writing here is its own kind of sharing. But I try to do it like I’m talking to a friend on the porch. Not to impress. Not to teach. Just to say — here’s what’s been sitting on my heart lately.

Lately, it’s this: I don’t want to live my life performing it. I want to live it living it.

I want to sit with my tea and not think about how it looks from the outside. I want to read things without summarizing them out loud. I want to try something new online, mess it up, and laugh about it — not crop it into a success story.

It’s okay to have pieces of your life that no one else claps for.

In fact, I think those might be the truest pieces.

So if you’re like me — if your camera roll is full of moments you didn’t share, or if your day feels quiet and invisible — I just want to say: I see you. You’re doing enough. And not everything needs to be proof.

Some things are just yours.

And that’s more than enough.

— Rachel