FAQ 2: how much of my life should I share on social media?

TL;DR: post like a writer, not an influencer

This post is part of series where I answer some of the questions I am most frequently asked about social media. To browse or read the rest of the series click here.

The dominant narrative about how we should show up online has been defined, in the main, by the rise of influencer-culture.

People ‘famous for being famous’ who have little more to say (at least, according to their social media profiles) other than telling us about the clothes they’re wearing, the places they’re visiting, or the food they’re eating, have garnered huge online audiences seemingly based solely on sharing the ins-and-outs of their entire lives.

Practically speaking however, the last sentence has to be up for debate as, whatever you think of influencers, surely we can agree that it’s impossible to share your entire life online. Not only is it desirable for influencers to curate their online presence to suit a certain agenda, anyone attempting to actually post their whole life would have to live-stream themselves 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Nobody is doing that… yet.

At some point, on every single social media account that ever existed, decisions are made about what ‘makes the cut’.

Everyone is curating the representation of their life they want the world to see.

However - or perhaps consequently - writers often tell me you’re worried about two things:

1. how much of your personal life are you expected to share online?

2. what happens to your authenticity and integrity when you curate what you share?

I have so much to say about the second question that I’m going to return to it in another post, but as regards question one, I’d first like to challenge the word ‘expected’. I immediately want to know exactly whose expectations are we talking about? Who do we think is making the rules?

There are objective truths about what ‘works’ on social media: for example, pictures with people in them, especially faces, typically receive up to 30% more engagement on Instagram. It doesn’t take a degree in psychology to know why that might be, but even where there is statistical evidence for what ‘works’, when it comes to what you share, as sure as the sky is blue and sh*t stinks, you make the decisions.

Think of it this way: when you have new visitors to your house, are you the kind of person who hangs out in the kitchen, do you usher them through to your hastily-tidied/ immaculate living room, or do you give them a tour of the whole house?

Different people will do things differently and, putting aside cultural expectations (there’s that word again), there is no objectively right or wrong way to welcome someone into your home. You will (hopefully) do what you feel comfortable with.

You can take the same approach to what you share on social media.

In my own case, people familiar with my Instagram profile will regularly see my kitchen-dining-room, as the desk where I work, film videos and host video calls, sits in one corner of it. Above my desk is a bookshelf that also features often.

These are areas of my home I’m willing to share with my audience, but there are plenty of others that I rarely and, in some cases, never share. In much the same way, I have clear boundaries about what I do and don’t share about my life.

When considering what you share online, bear in mind it will probably evolve. I used to share pictures of my children when they were much younger. Now they’re older and more aware I no longer share their faces, and if I’m completely honest, if I had my time again, I never would have.

In contrast, there may be subjects or experiences that feel too vulnerable to put out into the world right now but, with time and the space to process them, become something you want to share with others. Perhaps you want to make others in the same situation feel less alone, or maybe you want to open up a conversation? My personal rule of thumb is, when in doubt, share from a scar not a wound, but I emphasise again how individual these calculations are.

Some of your boundaries will appear as solid and certain as black marker pen on white paper. Others might begin as gentle strokes of a pencil before you define or erase them. Experimentation is sometimes necessary to reach a better understanding of what feels weird because it’s new, versus what feels weird because it’s crossed a line.

If you ever find you regret posting something online, it’s completely legitimate to hit that archive or delete button. It’s highly likely no one will notice, and if they do, they’re unlikely to care - not because they’re cruel or disinterested, but because no one thinks about us as much as we think about ourselves.

How do you decide what to share on the internet? Is this something you’ve grappled with? Or have your boundaries always been pretty clear? I’d love to hear about your thoughts and experiences in the comments.

Photo by Bekky Bekks on Unsplash