Behind the Reels

By Adebanke Abel

Tola sat on the edge of her unmade bed, cradling her newborn in one arm and scrolling through her phone with the other. Her eyes landed on Cynthia’s latest post: glowing skin, a sleek outfit, and that signature confident smile. The caption read, "Another productive day! Just wrapped up a client call, edited my vlog, and squeezed in some yoga. #MomBoss #NoExcuses"

Tola felt the familiar pit in her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room. There were clothes scattered on the floor, a pile of unwashed plates in the sink, and her hair—she hadn’t combed it in two days. She sighed, rocking her baby gently, guilt swirling inside her. How does Cynthia do it? Two kids, a thriving career, and she always looks so put-together. And here I am, barely surviving with just one child. Later that evening, as her husband walked in and greeted her with a tired smile, Tola exploded. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m stuck here all day, drowning in chores, while everyone else seems to have it all figured out!”

Her husband blinked, taken aback by her outburst. “Tola, who are you talking about?”

“Cynthia!” she snapped. “She has two kids, and she’s out there living her dreams, while I’m… I’m a mess!”

He shook his head, unsure of how to comfort her, and retreated to the living room. Tola sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

A few days later, Tola bumped into Aunty Grace, her next-door neighbour. Grace had seen Tola struggling these past few months and gently invited her in for tea. As they sat, Tola broke down, spilling everything.

“I’m failing, Aunty. Cynthia’s out there achieving her dreams, and I can’t even keep my house clean. I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

Aunty Grace listened quietly, waiting until Tola’s sobs softened. Then she leaned forward. “Tola, you’re judging yourself against an illusion. Do you know Cynthia has a live-in maid? That’s who takes care of the kids, cooks, and cleans while Cynthia focuses on her content and projects.”

Tola’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Yes, my dear. And…” Grace hesitated, lowering her voice, “...that maid has also taken up responsibilities she shouldn’t, even with Cynthia’s husband.”

Tola’s breath caught. Grace continued, “She posts online to fill the emptiness she feels at home. Her life isn’t perfect, Tola. None of us have perfect lives. What you see on the surface is only a fraction of the story.”

Tola sat in stunned silence, the weight of Grace’s words settling over her.

“You’re doing everything by yourself, Tola. You’re raising your child with your own two hands, building a home brick by brick. That’s strength. Don’t let someone else’s filtered life make you question your own journey.”

For the first time in weeks, Tola felt a flicker of relief. Maybe she wasn’t failing. Maybe she was just living her own, unfiltered, beautifully messy life. That evening, as her baby cooed in her arms, Tola decided to unfollow Cynthia. She didn’t need the constant reminder of someone else’s highlight reel. Instead, she chose to focus on her little wins: surviving the day, making her baby smile, and learning to be kinder to herself.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt like she could breathe again.

Please comment and share.