The Half-Drunk Social Media Post

The Half-Drunk Social Media Post

As of this morning, the social media post had gotten 1.4 million views, 47.5k likes, 1,147 comments and 9,155 shares. It had gone viral and it shouldn’t have even been posted to that account. That account was for my vintage furniture business, not for existential reflections.

I had posted it one evening after two full glasses of Pinot Noir. It was an honest sentiment about feeling like I was part of all the groups, but never really belonged to any of them fully. 

It read:

In high school, I could sit with the pot smokers, the cheerleaders and the theater kids.

As an adult, I can sit with the sustainably living, the church folk, pageant girls and the business-minded.

I am an in-betweener.

I’ve finally accepted the fact that I belong everywhere but nowhere all at the same time.

And I like it.

Are you that person, too?

Let’s be friends.

The text was overlaid on a video of my husband and me practicing for a pageant I didn’t win. In just a few lines, I described what it felt like to walk between worlds—never fully fitting in, but finding a kind of beauty in belonging everywhere and nowhere at once. Ninety-nine percent of the comments were “I’ve never related so hard.” and “This describes me perfectly!” and “My life makes so much more sense now!” and “I feel so seen.”

Suddenly, I realized that I wasn’t the only one.

There were comments suggesting “maybe you have ADHD” or informing me “you know that’s a trauma response.” Ten years ago those comments would be the ones I focused on, but in my forties, I recognized those are the comments from people who are too scared to accept that how they are might be on purpose. Hiding behind a private account with no profile picture, I knew it was a them issue. I’ve embraced the way God created me—exactly as I need to be for this life.

Why didn’t I post this to my more personal account…the one that showed who I was outside of my vintage reseller persona? I blame the wine.

I’ve tried to recreate the traction on other videos, but like they say, “Toddlers, Drunks and Yoga Pants don’t lie.” There is something insanely honest about a social media post made after a few glasses of wine. Your cerebral cortex gets blurry and you just don’t give AF about the opinions of others. 

I think it’s funny. In all the years of trying to “go viral” it’s the one post I made slightly inebriated that does it. And on the wrong account. SMH.

I think about this post a lot. Partly trying to figure out how to capitalize on its sentiment, but more so because it truly is how I feel. Jesus once said, “The foxes have holes, the birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to rest his head.” It wasn’t until I read that verse did I realize the way I felt was maybe normal. Maybe living in that in-between space wasn’t a flaw, but a design. Perhaps this was what it meant to be human, straddling the temporary and the eternal.

One of my keynote speeches is about the exact moment when I was caught in the in-between. I was in sixth grade. It was the year after the horrible thing happened, but its effects hadn’t fully taken hold of my life yet and I was still holding onto being the little girl that had been ripped away from me. The little girl who loved to read Bad News Ballet or Goosebumps and maybe the occasional Christopher Pike book.

The event of the year, at least for me, was being held in the junior high school library: The Scholastic Book Fair. The one with all the Lisa Frank stickers, kitten calendars, and Where’s Waldo books a middle-schooler’s heart could desire. 

In order to promote the bookfair, the staff conjured up an ingenious way of saving themselves time and money by pawning the signage off on the kids via an art contest. The winner would get a $25 gift certificate to the book fair.

Being an artsy kid and an avid reader, I knew this was my time to shine. Posterboard in hand I set to work. I had been reading Mad, Mad, Monday by Herma Silverstein. The cover was the two main characters walking forward. On the left was a brick wall. Nothing super special, but I had an idea. I would recreate the scene, but on the brick wall I would put a poster board advertising the book fair. Freaking genius if you ask me, even now I’m impressed with myself. 

When I took the posterboard to school, everyone agreed that my art was superior and I would win the contest. I couldn’t wait until the winner was announced.

Finally, in Mr. Klecka’s sixth grade history class, where I sat in the back row with Casey K., the principal came on the loudspeaker.

“Hmm-hmm,” the voice crackled over the PA system from the 1970s, “and now it’s time to announce the winners of the Scholastic Book Fair Art Contest.”

I could feel my whole body set aflame. Here it was!!! I looked at Casey and smiled. He smiled back.

The principal announced the third and second place winners. Neither was my name, but I didn’t care. I was aiming for first place.

“First place winner goes to…” I don’t remember whose name was called, but it wasn’t mine.

Time froze. My belly dropped. My body went cold.

I couldn’t believe it. Not only did I not win first place…I didn’t even get second or third!

The next few seconds turned into eternity. I could feel the eyes turning back to me. Everyone expected me to win. 

I. was. mortified.

Suddenly, the principal’s voice boomed on the loudspeaker once again, “…AND the Grand Prize Winner and winner of the $25 gift certificate to the book fair is…” And he said my name.

I was elated. Color returned to my cheeks, a smile spread across my face, and my class burst into applause for me.

I knew it. I just knew it!

But the problem is…for a moment I didn’t. For a moment I doubted my entire existence. For a moment, I was in that in-between space. The space where you don’t know what you don’t know. The place where you are stuck between one thing and another thing you didn’t even know existed. When you are able to look back at the past with fully understanding, but can’t yet see the blurry future ahead of you.

I didn’t realize there was such a thing as a grand prize. In my 12 years of existence, I was conditioned to believe that there was nothing better than first place. 

When I share this story on stage or online, I go into how God has used that story to shape my life. He’s brought it up time and time again. I share the moment when the curtains were closing after not being called as a semi-finalist in my first pageant and how God whispered to me in the darkness as I stood between the long black velvet curtains, “Don’t worry…this is your in-between.” Words that reassured me there was more to this pageant thing than winning a crown. I tell my audience how when I finally got the “grand prize” of winning United States of America’s Mrs. Texas…it was sweeter because of the in-between moments when I didn’t know what I didn’t know. This is all meant to encourage listeners to keep dreaming.

But as I reflect on my own life, the life of Jesus, who had no place to rest his head, and the 1.4 million people who resonate with being an in-betweener I can’t help but understand how comforting it is to know we aren’t alone in feeling of not yet having arrived to the final destination…wherever it might be: Years writing a book, and now you are waiting for someone to discover how brilliant a writer you are. Failed IVF after your fifth negative pregnancy test. A phone call for that third job interview you so desperately need. 

The only thing I do know, after all this time pondering on the impact of being an in-betweener is that we are always in some in-between place, there is no fully-arriving on this side of Heaven, so we have to make peace with it somehow. 

And that’s when I realize why it resonates with 1.4 million people, because we all want to find that little space of peace and understanding in this storm of life. We all want light in our dark places.

And so, I aim to be that light. Even on a silly, half-drunk-made, social media post.

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