I’m writing to you live from my cozy bed on Wednesday, November 13 (or, as the Danes would say, the fourth day of week 46), ready to get serious about something near and dear to my heart: the wonderful world of Instagram. These past three months have been jam-packed with adventures and profound beauty, and nowhere is it represented better than in the tiny squares on my profile. It was only a few days ago that I realized the detrimental routine I’ve fallen into: photograph my adventures, edit them, filter them, upload them to my social media, and sit back to watch the likes roll in. This cycle causes me to curate an ideal experience abroad that is inextricable from the moment at hand; it is like the joke that people make, “if you go to another country but don’t post something from it, did you even go?” Except the joke is on me and I’m not kidding— if I go to another country but don’t post something about it, I feel like my experience is somehow incomplete.
The past few months on my instagram are truly something to behold: I’m traveling, I’m happy, and the sun is always shining. According to this narrative there are no bad days— I mean, obviously I’m not going to go out of my way to post a bad photo, but there is a certain sweetness to my digital life that is unattainable in real life. Social media is already rampant with traps for unhealthy comparisons and insecurities, but I find that the person I stalk most on instagram is myself. This digital curation of my best moments, an endeavor that started out so wholesome and casual, has morphed into an instagram monster that haunts me through all my experiences.
I have this constant internal dialogue about the person I’ve created online and the person I actually am: on instagram, I travel everywhere, I always smile, and I never stop. So why can’t I keep up? The version of myself on Instagram would never sit in her bed on a Wednesday afternoon, she would jump up and make the most of the day (cute outfit and camera in tow, of course). The Finley on Instagram (the ~FINstagram~ if you will) is light, bright, and airy; she is calm, cool, and collected. She is the fashionable, more refined version of the real-life Finley who lost her headphones, forgot to call her dad, and turned in her paper late. I find that I return to this narrative again and again— the situation in which my instagram makes my good experiences public and shiny, but my careless moments that much more shameful and lonely.
With only one month left in Copenhagen, I feel more pressure than ever to live up to lifestyle I recount on social media. But with this passing of time comes an unavoidable feeling of exhaustion; while I may not have been able to fill every moment of the last three months with action, I came pretty damn close. I’m burned out, and waking up in the dark for my 8:30 class, biking in the rain, and modest nights in don’t necessary make for the most glamorous instagram posts. Does the fact that I’m aware of my unhealthy relationship with Instagram make it okay? It doesn’t, but it makes these last winter weeks that much more bearable. I have to remind myself that there are two sides to every coin; that my travels are only as rewarding as my resilience to withstand the struggles that accompany them.
This has been a difficult post to write, and I can almost feel the conflicting narratives in my head. Its as if now that I’ve spoken this truth I’ve admitted defeat— I am not, as much as I might like to believe, not as sophisticated as the version of myself online. But perhaps there is a lining of comfort in that dark cloud. Perhaps now that I see both sides of this coin, I can use these next four weeks to embrace the exhaustion, the nostalgia, and the discomfort that comes with living abroad. This is a regular Wednesday, I haven’t cleaned my room, I need to do my laundry, and I have an exam to study for. It is not filled with sunshine, but it is gloriously normal.
I know that I have a unique relationship with Instagram and this is an extreme situation, but maybe other people can take comfort in my efforts to accept these next few weeks for everything they are. Its okay to take a day for yourself, its okay to just make pizza for dinner. Not everyday has to be instagram-post, telling-stories-at-Christmas-dinner worthy because the experience of challenging yourself, pushing yourself into the great unknown, and living abroad is so much more than just the sum of the beautiful moments.
240 Days in Denmark 