The Unexpected Appeal of Imperfection

In the heavily curated world of social media, we are swamped by elusive perfection that only lasts for the second it takes to snap a photo. As a passive consumer, it can be entertaining and compelling, and may keep our eyes glued, but little else. Like the chocolate cake that tastes great on our tongue but feels bad in our gut, the airbrushed images that flood our psyche, rarely provide any value that is more than skin deep.

And then there’s real life. The messy, difficult, challenging and hard parts of life. The parts that most people don’t want to show you. The parts that are better left unsaid. The parts that ruin the family photo. The parts that hurt. The parts that you’ll hardly ever see on Instagram. But once in a while, you will. And when you do, it is not merely a two-dimensional image. It becomes a story you care to know, a person you may want to learn from, to be like, or even connect with.

What is it that draws (some of) us to the less than perfect version of social media?

For human beings, attachment and authenticity are two of our most fundamental needs. From the moment we are born, our survival depends on our bond with our caregivers, and this need for connection continues throughout our lives. Equally important however, is our need for authenticity. When we can be true to ourselves and others, express our feelings without fear, and be free to develop into who we are destined to be, this allows us the vitality to move through the world with a sense of agency and purpose.

The conflict arises when our need for attachment threatens our truth, or vice versa. If when a child shares a distressing emotion at the dinner table, he is told to go to his room, or if whenever he cries he is punished for acting like a baby, he will eventually learn to make the difficult choice between his truth, and his need for connection. Because his survival depends on it, a young child will always choose attachment over authenticity. It is no surprise then, that with time, many of us lose touch with our authentic voice.

Psychologist Carl Rogers developed the conditions of worth theory, which describes how the messages we absorb from those around us, determine what we do to gain the approval of others. Because children are so desperate for acceptance, they sacrifice their own feelings and needs, to earn praise, love, and attention. When this extends into adulthood, we call it people-pleasing.

Along these same lines, psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott developed the true self and false self theory which explains that when a caregiver is responsive to a child’s needs, this creates security for the child to express himself freely. Without this safety, he must adapt to the parent or the environment, resulting in a false self.

In contrast to the dependence of childhood, as we mature and develop a greater desire to express our truth, we may recognize the need to let go of some of the relationships that once served us. A friendship that was meaningful in high school for example, may not hold up to the emotions that present while raising a family. A close relative who has started to meddle, can hinder our ability to forge our own path. While it can be difficult to distance ourselves from some relationships, at times it may prove necessary. Just as attachment to a child is lifesaving, authenticity to an adult becomes absolutely vital.

In Bereishit (12:1) God says to Abraham: "Go forth from your land and from your birthplace and from your father's house, to the land that I will show you.” Rashi explains that this was not only a geographical instruction, but God was telling Abraham “Lech lecha” which translates to mean “go for yourself- for your own benefit and for your good.”

The late former Chief Rabbi of the UK, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, presents a range of ways that we can understand this instruction. Among them, he quotes Rabbi David Biderman of Lelov, who explains these words to mean “Go to yourself”- to the root of your soul and divine calling, in line with the teaching of Hasidic master Reb Zusha of Anipoli who famously said: “When I get to heaven, they will not ask me, why were you not Moses? They will ask me, Zusha, why were you not Zusha?”

There comes a time when a person must get in touch with his inner truth, listen to the calling of his soul, and live life in sync with his authentic self. The references to Abraham’s birthplace and father’s house appear to reflect this transition from the attachment that we depend on as children, to the self-actualization that we move towards as we grow.

Rabbi Sacks explains that “Lech lecha” can also be translated to mean “Go by yourself.” Abraham was being called to leave everything familiar behind and to distance himself from the idolatry of his father’s home, to begin an odyssey of spiritual discovery. When we let go of everything that is expected, and are willing to embark on what may be a lonely and unpopular journey, we discover the freedom to achieve great things. Abraham exemplified the moral courage to stand alone, even when it was far simpler to conform to the pressure around him.

And yet, while we may assume that to get in touch with our true essence, we must distance ourselves from others, in Ethics of the Fathers (2:4) we learn: “Hillel would say: Do not separate yourself from the community.” This teaching reminds us that even in our quest for authenticity, we must remain connected. Our pursuit of personal development is best achieved when we can nurture healthy connections, alongside this endeavor.

Some time ago a world-renowned educator spoke about the challenges he faced while raising his own children, and he admitted that there were times that he wished for unthinkable scenarios that would relieve him of the great pain. My first instinct was judgement. How can someone who guides parents to raise healthy children express himself this way? How is it possible that he has such a large following? It took me a moment to realize that it is precisely his candor and transparency that make him so approachable. When we are struggling, who better to connect with, than the one who is willing to share the unflattering snapshots, invite us in, and grant us the permission to keep it real.

Perhaps this is what we are secretly searching for as we scroll through social media. Not because we don’t like to look at beautiful things, and not because misery likes company, but because being human means that when we grapple with the real and less than pretty parts of life, we don’t want to choose between attachment and authenticity, but to experience the precious gift of connection, unfiltered.