Instagram vs Reality: The Highlight Reel vs the Hard Days with Bowel Cancer

It’s easy to forget, scrolling through Instagram or TikTok, that what we’re seeing is just a highlight reel. Even when the content is raw or honest, it’s still filtered. Not always by editing tools or captions, but by energy. And when you’re living with bowel cancer, energy is in short supply.

I try to share my story with as few filters as possible. I’m not here to sugar-coat what cancer looks like in your 30s. I talk about the hard days, the scans, the fatigue, the mental toll. But the truth is, when I’m at my absolute worst, when I can’t get out of bed, when my body feels wrecked, when my soul feels heavier than my limbs, I’m not filming. I’m not taking selfies. I’m not making a reel. I’m just surviving.

The Reality Behind “Real” Content

People often message me after a post and say, “You’re looking great,” or “You seem like you’re doing really well.” And sometimes I am. But sometimes I’ve posted that photo on a rare day I could stand up long enough to take it. Sometimes I record a video when I’ve mustered just enough energy to seem okay for a few minutes. Then I crawl straight back into bed after hitting upload.

Even the most honest content is still curated. Not in a deceitful way, but because the camera only captures what it’s pointed at. You can’t see the nausea behind the smile. You don’t hear the internal voice counting the hours until the next anti-nausea meds kick in. You’re not watching the dozens of failed attempts to make that same video earlier in the week when I was too wrecked to speak clearly.

Good Moments Are Still Real. They’re Just Not the Whole Picture

Here’s the thing. The good days are real. The smiles, the laughs, the coffee with a mate, the tiny wins, they’re not fake. They’re just not the full story. Sharing them doesn’t mean everything’s fine. It means I’m soaking up the good stuff while I can, because I know how quickly it can all turn.

I’ve had people say, “You’re always so positive online.” And I get it. If you only catch the surface, it might look like that. But I’m not always positive. I just don’t always have the capacity to document the dark moments. They’re not aesthetic. They’re not catchy. And sometimes they’re too emotionally raw to wrap into a caption.

I’ve also had people ask if it’s “performative” to post about cancer at all. Here’s my take. If one person books a GP appointment after seeing a post, it’s worth it. If someone going through treatment sees themselves in my story and feels less alone, it’s worth it. And if I can turn some of the shit I’ve gone through into something useful, even for a stranger, then that’s not performative. That’s purpose.

The Pressure to “Look Well”

Social media has created this weird paradox. If you don’t look sick, people assume you’re fine. If you do look sick, people get uncomfortable. So there’s this unspoken pressure to post when you look a little more human, not at your worst. But cancer doesn’t always show up in dramatic, visual ways. Sometimes it’s an internal exhaustion that doesn’t make for good content.

There have been times I’ve looked healthier than I’ve felt. And times I’ve felt stronger than I looked. Neither tells the whole story. But social media doesn’t do nuance very well, especially in 15-second clips or a static photo.

So if you’re watching someone’s cancer journey online and thinking, “Wow, they’re smashing it,” just remember. You’re seeing what they had the capacity to show. That’s it.

The Guilt of Not Posting the Hard Stuff

I’ve had moments of guilt where I’ve thought, “Am I giving people the wrong impression?” Especially during stretches where I didn’t post much at all. But here’s the truth. On those days, I was just trying to survive. And when you’re that depleted, emotionally, physically, mentally, documenting it feels impossible.

Talking about a bad day is one thing. Showing it is another. And even if I wanted to, there are moments so vulnerable that capturing them feels invasive. Even if I’m the one holding the camera.

Sometimes the most honest thing I can do is nothing at all. No post. No update. Just rest.

What I Want People to Know

• Don’t assume silence means someone’s doing fine. Sometimes it means the opposite.
• Don’t judge someone’s health based on their appearance. You can’t see pain, exhaustion, or grief in a well-lit photo.
• Don’t feel guilty if you can’t post through the hard times. Your job isn’t to perform your suffering for others.
• And if you’re a friend or family member watching from the sidelines, reach out anyway. Not just when the posts are flowing.

Why I Keep Showing Up (Even When It’s Bloody Hard)

I keep posting because connection matters. Because cancer can be isolating as hell. Because I remember what it felt like at the start, scrolling through hashtags looking for someone who sounded even remotely like me.

But I also post because it’s one of the few things I can still do. To raise awareness, to advocate, to hold space for other young people going through this. Even if all I can offer that day is a shaky voice and a 60-second caption, it’s something. And something is better than silence when it comes to making cancer visible.

I’m not trying to be inspirational. I’m just trying to be real. And real, unfortunately, doesn’t always trend.

Final Thought

Social media shows the highlights. Cancer is lived in the lowlights. If you’re scrolling and comparing your reality to someone else’s reel, please don’t. The smiles are real, but so is the struggle they don’t always show. If you’re here, reading this, on a day where you’re flat, broken, or over it, you’re not alone. You don’t owe anyone proof of your pain to make it valid.