Private Life

Before I get into this one, I want to give credit where it's due. I came across a TikTok from @imjustkesha that put words to something I've been thinking about in a way I hadn't quite been able to myself. Her video inspired this post, but as I sat with what she said, my mind kept coming back to mental health, and how much of our lives can be shaped by things happening inside of us that nobody else can see. Especially where healthy relationships lead.

There was a time when if you followed me on social media, you probably knew just about everything going on in my life. The good. The bad. The arguments. The accomplishments. The frustrations. Where I was, what I was doing, what I was feeling, and sometimes exactly who I was feeling it toward.

I shared everything. Now, I don't necessarily look back at that version of myself with embarrassment. I think she was doing what she knew how to do at the time. Sometimes sharing was connection. Sometimes it was validation. Sometimes it was wanting to feel understood. And sometimes, if I'm being completely truthful with myself, I think putting something out into the world was easier than sitting alone with whatever I was feeling.

Over the last few years, that changed. Slowly, I started pulling pieces of my life back not because I suddenly had something to hide. Actually, almost the complete opposite, and thanks to Kesha, that being in a healthy relationship made me realize that there is peace. I haven’t needed that validation, I haven’t needed everyone to know everything, and I don’t care if anyone else understands. I’ve found my person that is all of those things and more that have led us to the peaceful life I never thought I would ever live. Everything outside doesn’t matter because of how solid of a foundation my husband and I have built.

I discovered how good it feels to have things that are just mine. To have moments with my husband that don't become posts. Memories with my kids that exist only in our camera rolls, or sometimes nowhere but our own memories. Accomplishments that don't need an announcement. Hard days that don't need an explanation. Problems that can be worked through privately instead of inviting an audience into them. The more private my life became, the more peaceful it started to feel.

I've obviously never stopped sharing completely. I mean, you're reading my mental health blog right now. But there's a difference I've learned between being vulnerable and being accessible. I can write honestly about mental health without giving everyone unlimited access to my life. I can talk about things I've experienced without telling every detail of someone else's story. I can be open about what I'm learning while still keeping parts of my healing sacred.

That distinction has become incredibly important to me because privacy isn't only something I value for my family's sake anymore. I value it for me.

I think there's something to be said about what constantly sharing can do to our mental health. When every experience becomes something we might post about, sometimes we're already thinking about how other people will react before we've even figured out how we feel about it.

Will people agree with me?

Will they understand?

Who will like it?

Who will see it?

Will someone think I'm wrong?

Do I need to explain myself better?

Suddenly, something that originally existed between you and your own emotions has an entire invisible audience attached to it. I've realized that I don't want that audience in every room of my life anymore. Some things deserve to happen without commentary. Some problems deserve to be worked through before they're talked about. Some happiness deserves to exist without being displayed. Some healing needs privacy.

And sometimes protecting your peace isn't about cutting people off, disappearing from social media, or becoming secretive. Sometimes it's simply realizing that not everyone needs access to every version of you.

I'm still someone who shares. I'm still someone who writes about uncomfortable things. The Reflection Project wouldn't exist if I didn't believe there was value in telling our stories and letting people see that they aren't alone, but I'm also learning that telling your story doesn't mean giving away every page. Maybe that's one of the healthier boundaries I've learned to create.

My life doesn't have to be a secret.

But it doesn't have to be public property, either.