Everything on stage always looks perfect. The back-of-house chaos stays hidden, and we judge the performance by what’s lit, not what’s lived. That’s the point of a stage, right?
A lot of people live their lives on that same Instagram-sponsored stage. The idyllic vacation. The blissfully happy relationship. The seemingly perfect kids who have never thrown a ridiculous temper tantrum or littered the car with an ungodly amount of Goldfish crumbs.
LinkedIn has its own version of the performance. “I’m so proud to work with XYZ client” often means “We want more clients like XYZ. Please keep us in mind!” And “We’re honored to receive XYZ award” usually translates to “Look how great we are, and don’t forget to spread the word!” [Guilty. I’ve posted it all too.]
But what doesn’t make the feed is everything else.
The RFP you didn’t win after weeks of grinding.
The project you delivered even though you weren’t proud of it.
The day you felt like a total imposter.
The week that felt held together with just the right amount of duct tape.
That’s not the stuff we share. Not because we’re hiding it, but because we’re performing. Everyone is. We’re curating a narrative that suggests we have it figured out. That things are smooth. That there’s a plan and we’re nailing it.
Sometimes we are, and that is absolutely worth celebrating. But every now and then, you catch a glimpse behind someone else’s curtain. And it’s not necessarily dark. It’s just familiar. Marriage can be hard. Parenting can be hard. Work can be hard. Staying afloat emotionally, logistically, professionally, can be hard. Even when you’ve found success. Sometimes it can be hard precisely because you’ve found success.
Getting a peek behind someone else’s curtain is both a jarring and comforting reminder that nobody has it all figured out. The show is the show. But behind the scripted performance, most of us are running the same imperfect, exhausting routine. We worry so much about people seeing behind our curtain, when the truth is that everyone else is too busy performing on their own stage to notice ours.
And maybe that’s for the best.
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