This morning I texted good friends a photo of us from our snowshoeing adventure on the flanks of Mt. Hood. It was a glorious Pacific NW day, with brilliant blue skies, blazing sunshine, and Wy-East, as he is known to our Native American sisters and brothers, was out in all his glory. It was the kind of day that takes your breath away and reminds you of how amazing it is to be alive, and I wanted to share it.
Almost immediately a text came zooming back.
That’s some impressive green screen work... 😂
It made me laugh out loud.
But you know…he has a point.
It can be hard to tell real from fiction when it comes to what our lives actually look like. It is tempting to put ourselves in the best light possible, not wanting others to see our private struggles. We can carefully curate our lives with a backdrop that displays only that which is Instagram worthy, fearing what others might think if they saw the unfiltered truth of our everyday lives.
I’m not talking about disclosing in public spaces that which is in need of safe haven. There is way too much of that for anyone’s good. What I am advocating is that we find our people. Those with whom we can show up raw and uncensored, and speak our unfiltered truth. People who love us not in spite of our scars and imperfections, but at least in part, because of them. In other words, we need friends who can smell our green screen bullshit a mile away and gently, but firmly, call us on it. Because if I can’t tell you the real story of my life, then you might not tell me yours, and if we can’t see ourselves in one another’s stories, then where can we?
As tempted as I am with every passing year to use one of those nifty little apps that smoothe away my hard-earned lines and wrinkles, I sent this one off as is. What was great about this little text exchange today is that it came from a friend who already knows the real-meal-deal of who I am and what I struggle with. I guess you might call it the kind of friendship that is picture post card worthy. No green screen required.
