The Real Story Behind Social Media Bragging

By Joy Stephenson-Laws, Holistic Coach, J.D., Founder

I used to roll my eyes at them. You know the posts I mean—the strategically angled shot of a luxury car's steering wheel, the "casual" yacht deck selfie, the restaurant bill that costs more than most people's weekly groceries. My immediate reaction was always the same: Show off. Must be nice. What are they trying to prove? Aren't they concerned about their safety or getting robbed in today's society?

Scroll through the comments on any conspicuous display of wealth, and you'll find a chorus of judgment. We dismiss these people as shallow, insecure, out of touch. We assume they're bragging, that they think they're better than us, that they want to make us feel small.

But here's what changed for me: I stopped asking what they were doing and started asking why.

What Our Judgment Reveals

When someone posts about their expensive possessions, something visceral happens in us. We feel envy, resentment, maybe anger. We judge them instantly—for being materialistic, for lacking humility, for not reading the room when so many are struggling.

I get it. It does feel tone-deaf. But what if our immediate judgment is actually revealing more about us than about them?

The Stories Behind the Posts

The turning point for me came when I took the time to get to know some of these people who actually posted this content. Many people experience significant trauma—the kind that shatters your sense of self-worth from the inside out.

I know someone who posts photos of his luxury watches obsessively. What I didn't see in those posts: he grew up in a home where his father told him daily that he'd never amount to anything. Every watch is proof to that voice in his head that he survived, that he made it, that he matters.

And how about the woman you may know who shares every designer purchase? What her followers may not know is that she spent her childhood wearing secondhand clothes that got her bullied mercilessly. Now, those handbags aren't about impressing anyone—they're about never feeling that shame again.

When your internal foundation crumbles, external markers become the scaffolding you cling to. When you don't know who you are anymore, possessions can feel like proof that you exist, that you have value.

But trauma isn't the only story:

The safety paradox. I questioned whether posting wealth was dangerous, inviting robbery or harm. Yet some people broadcast wealth precisely because they believe visibility equals protection—"I've made it, I have resources, I'm not an easy target." Whether this logic holds up is debatable, but the psychology is real.

The attention economy. Sometimes the luxury isn't the point—it's the hook. Entrepreneurs and educators learn that a sports car photo gets 10,000 views while their message about financial literacy gets 200. The yacht becomes the billboard that gets people to stop scrolling long enough to hear what they're actually trying to say.

Cultural celebration. In some communities, sharing success openly is expected—it's a way of honoring those who supported you, proving their investment in you wasn't wasted.

Unprocessed achievement. They're genuinely excited about something they worked decades for, but the audience doesn't see the struggle, the student loans finally paid off, the risks that nearly bankrupted them before the breakthrough.

But What About the Ones Who Really Are Just Showing Off?

Let's be honest: sometimes people post expensive things because they want to feel superior. Sometimes it is shallow. Sometimes it is about making others feel small.

But here's what I've learned: secure people don't need constant external validation. The person who genuinely feels good about themselves rarely feels compelled to prove it to strangers on the internet. So even when it looks like pure arrogance, there's usually still something driving it—some emptiness being temporarily filled.

That doesn't mean we have to applaud it or engage with it. But it does mean we can hold two truths at once: this behavior might be off-putting AND the person doing it might be struggling in ways we can't see.

Should They Have the Right?

Should people have the right to post about what they own? Of course. It's their life, their social media, their choice.

But should they? That's the question that requires wisdom.

You can have the right to post your luxury vacation while your followers are struggling, and you can simultaneously recognize that exercising that right comes with consequences—strained friendships, loss of trust, a reputation for being out of touch. Freedom and wisdom aren't the same thing.

What If We Got Curious?

If you post about expensive things, pause and ask: What am I really trying to communicate? What need is this meeting? Is there a more direct way to address that need? If I'm healing from something, is this actually helping me heal or just temporarily numbing the pain? And if I'm using wealth displays to build an audience—are people hearing my real message, or just seeing the car?

If you find these posts off-putting (like I used to), ask yourself: Why does this trigger me so strongly? What story am I telling myself about this person? What might I be missing? Is my judgment protecting me from feeling something uncomfortable about my own situation—my own financial anxiety, my own unfulfilled dreams, my own shame about wanting more?

Our reactions to other people's displays often reveal our own unhealed places.

The Middle Ground

I'm not suggesting we celebrate every luxury post or pretend we're not affected by them. Income inequality is real. Tone-deafness is real. The pain of watching others flaunt wealth while you're struggling is completely valid.

You don't have to engage with content that makes you uncomfortable. Unfollow, scroll past, protect your peace. That's not judgment—it's self-care.

But maybe—before we write someone off completely—we can hold space for complexity. People are dealing with things we can't see. Trauma manifests in unexpected ways. The person who seems to have everything might be the one struggling most with feeling like they're nothing.

I used to judge. Now I wonder. And that small shift has made me not just more compassionate toward others, but more honest with myself about why certain posts bothered me so much in the first place.

Because here's the truth I had to face: my judgment of their "bragging" was often rooted in my own sense of lack. Their posts didn't make me angry because they were wrong—they made me angry because they reminded me of everything I didn't have, everything I wanted, everything I feared I'd never achieve.

Once I dealt with that, the posts lost their power over me.

What we see online is never the whole story. Not even close. And neither is our reaction to it.

Joy Stephenson-Laws, J.D., is a healthcare attorney with over 40 years of experience championing fairness in the healthcare system. She is the founder of Proactive Health Labs (pH Labs), a national non-profit that now embraces a holistic approach to well-being—body, mind, heart, and spirit. As a certified holistic wellness coach, she helps individuals and families create practical, lasting health strategies. Her own experiences as a mother inspired her to write resources that spark important conversations about safety and wellness.

She is the author of Minerals – The Forgotten Nutrient: Your Secret Weapon for Getting and Staying Healthy.Her children’s book, Secrets That Sparkle (and Secrets That Sting), empowers kids to recognize safe vs. unsafe secrets in a gentle, age-appropriate way.

Her latest book, From Chains to Wings, offers compassionate tools for resilience, healing, and emotional freedom.