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Recently and frequently mood swings have become a common occurrence in my daily routine. I guess to remain unaltered during the course of day, a week or month is an impossible task, things hit us constantly with enough potential to brighten or spoil the moment without even trying and nobody's immune to it. I get it, I can put it in big letters on the front on my cropped shirt - I get it, Universe! But when it happens first thing in the morning before I even realize I'm capable of accomplishing a great deal prior to first coffee, it's striking. If I'm in no hurry to proceed with tasks life and dinner depend on, it's worrying. Tolstoy exclaimed a while ago that all happy people are alike but each unhappy person is unhappy in her own way. What an old-fashioned genius talking about beating ourselves up the unique way, torturing with things others wouldn't notice even when pointed to - our own inarticulate reasons of avoiding radiance even on a clearest of days.

Then one day while sun glared over my windows with its all strength, I came across a caption to one of many photos uploaded to ever-so-overloaded servers of social media that stopped me in my tracks almost immediately. It was rather long paragraph so you make sure you read it in chunks paying attention to familiar context. A successful lifestyle blogger and author of recently published book of essays says in an honest tone of eloquent English that she struggles - with perfectionism, her body image, sense of self worth and purpose as a woman, as a mother, as a wife. It goes on for a good quarter of an hour if you're trying to inject each sentence with its true meaning. You make connections, compare the familiar and a realization of how similar you feel creeps up almost immediately. She struggles to feel proud in her body yet her style related articles gather exceptional following, she has no idea what she's doing on social media, or online or in life while everything that she really does settles for nothing less than exciting and tongue-wagging. In the eye of an aspiring, still anonymous writer - she's miles away from unsuccessful online persona yet she admits the struggle while social media get their mention a lot.

I decided to dig deeper in the matter looking for clues and expecting a revelation. Her remarkably thought-out interiors are a true resemblance of - what shall I say - every respectable Pinterest account with a great followers' base which I admit to fall under the spell of too - minimalist space coming to life through cleverly arranged furniture and relevant foliage. Her clothes speak words of comfort and dedication as I optimistically roam through my closet for reassurance; wait until I'll tell you about her cool son, language I force myself to have more comprehension of, the overall picture she paints tirelessly for Internet to copy and paste. I'm not a hater, far from it, as a long time amused supporter I'm in the process of understanding the phenomenon of our times such loved and generally speaking woman that has it all feels inadequate, not enough, with stress causing her drastic weight drop everybody's been picking on. As many supporters, equally many haters.

I feel I'm nearing the same standards she's struggling to live up to - with almost similar taste in decor and footwear, experiencing equal amount of anxiety and ongoing irrational fear over every should, must and could. The minimal trend here is totally irrelevant as we could be discussing the vintage or boho depending on what's hot and desired turning us into its truest enthusiasts. We like what we know and see regularly; the masculine, effortless trend of boyfriend jeans and beaten up leather jacket I avoided like a plague in the past - now, show me a pair of distressed denim and we're pals until new trend rolls around. Such human brain works, you can't argue with evolution and covers of readable magazines. It happens naturally but committing to a trend takes up a lot of energy that causes anxiety and doubt. A struggle with perfectionism. Social media with its abundance of unnecessary choice plays inevitable role in all of this. The minute a thought, an image is out, it's already taken up by yet another variation on a style, it goes viral before another familiar story rolls around. You try to keep up, apply modifications in order to stay well informed but it's a useless formula no one had mentioned at the start. It's addictive too.

Today I thought of pulling over and applying a firm brake. Congratulate myself on being wise and see where it takes me. If you notify me universe of anything essential that took place while I lived, ate and played with my daughter, I may not notice. Deliberately. Shall we say, for a month? You count the daily alerts and notifications, I'll count my stress levels and miracles not involving Kardashians and best lip liner ever invented. 

One more thing, if I'm not back in 30 days, do not become alarmed, before social media got crazy and all I lived a perfectly amused life. Don't mind keeping it to myself again.

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