Gregg McBride

I was at a dinner party recently, doing what I do in social situations—making people laugh while quietly wondering if I’d said something strange 20 minutes earlier. If so, everyone else had likely already forgotten it. Not me. In the middle of that spiral, a thought landed: Gregg, you’re doing just fine. You weren’t raised in a way that makes social situations easy. That's not an excuse or complaint. It's a fact.

I was standing in the emergency room waiting area a few months ago (don't worry, everything's fine), and I couldn't help but notice the woman next to me live-tweeting her mother's medical crisis. Updates every three minutes. Vitals. Doctor names. Prayer emoji requests. The whole nine yards. And I found myself wondering: When did we collectively decide that every single moment—especially the hard ones—needed an audience?