Dressed in designer clothes, my four boys and I travelled in first class on the train to London, enjoyed exclusive access to the dinosaurs and exhibitions at the Natural History Museum, then jumped in a taxi to a top hotel where we were staying for the night.
As I saw the luxury suite, I did a double take. It had a living room, several bedrooms, a welcome basket, a roll-top bath and a beautiful view from the balcony. We were receiving VIP treatment – like celebrities. But it wasn’t my birthday or any of my sons. It was a typical day at work.
As an Instagram influencer with 35,000 followers, I am able to go on the most incredible days out with my sons Jonah, 10, Winter, seven, Fox, five, and Hunter, 18 months. We wear the latest designer clothes, go to theme parks such as Legoland and stay in lavish London hotels. We work with brands including Netflix, Disney, Ikea, Lego and Mamas & Papas. And we’ve been gifted everything from toys, clothes and nursery furniture, to swimming pools and tents and even foreign holidays. I’m paid to provide content to inspire my followers to go on family days out or buy children’s clothes. I post beautiful pictures and reels of our family online, capturing all the amazing things we get up to – screaming on roller coasters, dining in top restaurants, meeting celebs, attending film premieres… Social media is a form of escapism and, like window shopping, browsing can make followers feel good, even if they don’t buy anything.
Everyone thinks we lead a fantastic life – like the kind you see in films. But Instagram only shows half of the picture. Things are very different when my camera isn’t rolling. Instagram is a smokescreen for my financial reality. The truth is I can’t afford petrol for my
car or nappies for my toddler. I’ve had bailiffs in my home threatening me in front of my kids. The electricity has been cut off and the cupboards are bare. Thousands of pounds in debt off the back of lockdown, I live in fear of opening my own front door.
Every trip we go on is gifted – the train tickets, the day out, the hotel, the meals. Because we can’t afford to leave the house.
Sharing the truth
One evening this summer, I was uploading my usual content but it suddenly didn’t feel right to do so. I was fed up, at rock bottom and facing the stark reality of having nowhere left to go. Keeping up the “perfect life” facade was stressful and wrong. I wanted to be open about it. It was time to share the other side.
“I just want to be honest,” I told my husband Chris, 42, who works as a digital creator. I felt ashamed and embarrassed as I started a new post – the kind I’d never written before. I typed, “For those of you struggling, I wanted to let you know that you are not alone and you deserve to know that we are too because I can’t show you our highs without also showing the lows…
“I’ve hit rock bottom today. I just had to serve the boys the last of the food in the house – I lied and told them it was lunchtime, although it was 11am, because I have nothing breakfasty to give them. I feel like money is made of water and I can do nothing to stop it slipping through my fingers.
“Here is the naked truth which I am both horrified and ashamed of. We will have our electricity cut off tomorrow at 10am because I can’t top up the meter. We already have no broadband because I wasn’t able to pay the bill. Hunter needs nappies but I’ll have to wait until Tuesday to get them, so he’s running around naked. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this other than I need to get it off my chest in a world where it’s cripplingly taboo to talk about money issues.
“Times are really tough. We need to stick together and, although I feel like a complete and utter letdown to my family, I hope that by being honest I might help somebody who reads this.”
I felt nervous but also a sense of relief. My Instagram is always so shiny and positive, but I realised that being honest was important. I actually found it much easier to share my reality with my followers than I did with friends and family – talking about money is hard, embarrassing and draining.
Nothing prepared me for what happened next. More than 1,000 followers got in touch with me – many with heartbreaking stories of their own. “I’ve had to sell my kids’ toys for fuel – they keep asking me where their toys are,” one follower told me. Another said, “I’m literally scraping the cupboards to make a meal.” And a third said, “I’m living off porridge so my kids can eat.”
As I read the hundreds of messages flooding in with parents sharing their financial struggles, I was shocked and appalled by the sheer number of “normal” working families struggling to make ends meet. There were families with great jobs going to food banks, kids eating pasta twice a day because it’s the only affordable thing to buy, and children complaining to their parents that they are hungry.
You are not alone
On social media you see all the wonderful things people are doing, all the magical memories they are making and you think, “Everyone else is going so well, am I the only one struggling? Am I a failure?”
For so long I had felt guilty, like I was failing my boys because I couldn’t fulfil my expectations of motherhood and provide the things I wanted to. But learning so many other families are in the same position made me realise I am not alone. I’ve realised too that I don’t need money to be a great mum to my kids – all they need is love and attention.
It’s shameful how many families like mine are struggling and the government really needs to do something to help. Crippling debt is like a weight around you – it drags you down and you can’t get free of it. Families who got into debt during lockdown need support – not to be treated like criminals. Families shouldn’t be living in fear of a knock on the door.
I still post about our gifted days out but I’m determined to get a balance now and continue posting about our financial reality too. I don’t want any other families to be feeling alone like I did.
Follow Karen Howden on Instagram @thehowdenfam