I had one of those moments today that just… stopped me cold. You know the kind. You’re just existing, doing your thing, and then suddenly you're hit with the raw, embarrassing truth of yourself. I was at the grocery store, waiting in line, and honestly, the cashier was moving like molasses. So I pulled out my phone – a terrible habit, I know, but what else is one to do? I was deep into this trending thread about that whole public scandal, the one everyone’s buzzing about. It was one of those comments, really clever, cutting, had me chuckling. And then I heard it. A small, polite throat-clearing. Just a little ‘ahem’. I snapped my head up. The cashier, a young man, was looking at me. Not accusingly, not even annoyed, just… waiting. And I felt it, this incredible FLUSH of shame. Not for being on my phone, not really. It was for what I was doing on my phone, for being so engrossed in something utterly trivial, something that wasn't even MY life, when someone was literally right there, waiting for me to engage with reality. Like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It made me wonder, am I the only one who feels this profound disconnect sometimes? This sense that my inner life, the one I live mostly alone, has absolutely no bearing on the person people see? For decades, my world was my home, my children. My thoughts were for them, about them. My identity became ‘Mom’ and ‘Wife’. And I loved it, I truly did. But there was always this other self, buzzing underneath, observing, thinking, consuming information, forming opinions about things that had nothing to do with school lunches or doctor’s appointments. Things that felt… bigger. And now, with the nest empty, that inner self is ALL I have sometimes. The one that dives into internet rabbit holes at 2 AM, the one that can spend hours dissecting a stranger's public downfall. It feels a bit… unseemly, I suppose. Like a secret addiction. And that little throat-clear today, it just… exposed it. Made me realize that even in a public place, I'm hiding. Hiding my interest in the trivial, my detachment from the immediate. Anyone else feel like they’re living a double life? Like the person the world sees is just a very carefully constructed facade, and the REAL you is just… scrolling? Or is it just me, rattling around in my own head, feeling guilty about wanting more than what's expected?