I guess technically I deactivated it. I was in the heat of the moment and just wanted to take the most action in the shortest amount of time as possible. Pinterest says I’m welcome back any time so long as I use the email and password I used when I signed up, but I don’t plan on going back. So for all intents and purposes, I deleted my Pinterest account.
Pinterest, for me, was just one giant guilt and shame trap. Nothing I did with it ever seemed to amount to the stellar reviews or the number of times it had been repinned. It was all… eh. The food ones weren’t too bad. I kind of suck at following a recipe and much prefer to wing it, so I won’t hold the culinary pins accountable. I will say, though, that to get the right lighting on so many of those pictures, those people are cooking dinner at like 10am. Just saying.
The worst pins for me were those regarding my home, and my kids.
I could never muster up the motivation to make my own all-natural everything.
Every cleaning schedule on the planet, though pinned, could not keep my house spotless.
No matter what I did, my laundry room will always look like, well, a laundry room. Yoda, Gandalf, and Harry Potter could all join forces and I don’t think even they could fix that “problem.” I just don’t have it in me.
But everything on Pinterest said I should. They said it was easy. It was affordable. It was so pretty and perfect and serene and oh my gosh I couldn’t take it anymore.
Here’s the thing: I don’t need help feeling guilty. I do a fine job of that on my own. I felt guilty a lot of the time before I had kids. Now that I have kids, my guilt has its own place setting at the dinner table. On days when everything is awesome and I don’t feel guilty… I kind of feel guilty. I’m a little bit crazy… and maybe a little Catholic.
There’s so much pressure on all of us to be something, be doing something, be doing the best thing we can be doing all the time. Screw sleep and taking care of ourselves. There are 47 freezer meals to prep today and 9 different ways to scrub my baseboards and my children will develop seven eyeballs if I let them use store bought Play-Doh.
Oh the humanity.
Pinterest, for me, was a place where all of the pressure from the outside world to be perfect resided. It was the epicenter of so much of my guilt and anxiety. So I deleted it and have felt a lot more freedom ever since. Now instead of scrolling through Pinterest and feeling inadequate, I find new ways to entertain myself like telling the kids, “Tickling me is NOT just squeezing my belly fat.”
It’s a lot more fun.