I have been really pleased lately to see so many blogs and social media statuses pop up and talk about taboo subjects. It seems to be more of the ‘norm’ now for people to express themselves over social platforms so freely, the content being more of a personal nature.
I love this. Like, social media is so toxic at times for us all anyway. Of course, admittedly, we all put up the better looking pic of ourselves, sometimes do a bit of editing here and there plus a filter change so our usual pasty selves look a little more ‘glow’. Let’s face it we let people know what we want them to know, is all façade and showmanship at the best of times. Yes, we want to let the haters know how good life is without them, or old school friends that we are weekend millionaires, or whatever you have to prove, it happens you’re lying to yourself if you have never done it! Or okay, if you are not doing it yourself you are probably facebook spying on others and contributing to the overall audience! So to see genuine posts , brave statuses and blogs from different members from groups I’m in I find personally so refreshing. What I’m not saying here is that I take pleasure from reading some of the content, because I don’t thrive off others misfortune clearly , but it is comforting abeit scary to see so many battles are being fought daily. And. For once. social platforms do have their uses.
When I started blogging this year it wasn’t because I wanted the whole world to know my business, or that I wanted anyone to feel sorry for me or attract attention. (I hardly wanted to advertise my sick face with sexy tubes coming out of my nose!) However, it was simply because I was lost and scared , more scared than I had ever been for a long time, carrying a baby and not knowing what would happen. (And my my we all say it but hindsight is a wonderful thing sometimes if only I could go back to me in May knowing what I know now).
My writing was a little comforting release in a dark hospital room at nights, which from a mental health perspective started to make me really ill. Forget the physical problems the drugs changed me a lot, my personality and thoughts were so erratic that channelling myself made a big difference. The confidence you loose when you can’t make yourself a cup of tea for three months is scary. I really did regress in so many ways because that’s what hospital does to you, you loose your life, independence and basic human rights (it felt like at times) because for me, I personally couldn’t survive unless I was plugged into some sort of machine.
The suprise that anyone read what I wrote made me feel happy that people felt a glimpse of my pain, if anything purely for education about how vile the flip side of life is when you haven’t got your health. Although I couldn’t face many people physically and least virtually I felt like I had people around me supporting me. The lack of control frightened me, a control freak with no control. Recipe for disaster. I never actually thought I’d get better ever, so to now be blasé about my life, worry about what I have or haven’t got, live wrecklessly or focus on the wrong things is something that has changed completely because I refuse to go back to that place.
So as I now read others stories , anything from chronic dieases, shock accidents, bullying or mental health I read with a different view that these people aren’t doing it for the fame and name in glitzy lights it’s medicinal, it’s a release and actually sometimes writing I think is better than drugs. (Although I did find that I have more of a poetic flare when I was wired on the mental stuff). Shouldn’t joke, it’s so true though!
Okay I’m not saying writing is better than insulin for a diabetic … I mean the drugs we reach for or are prescribed as a crutch to help improve mental wellbeing like the need for antidepressants for instance might be lessened, if you feel like you have released whatever is on your mind you are sharing the burden, making yourself more confident and feeling less alone with matters than you think you are the only one dealing with, which of course sadly isn’t true.
It’s obviously not for everyone being so open… it still makes me very shy when I see people I know, or don’t know, who probably now know a lot more than I’d bargained for about ‘me’, my silly thoughts and some of the embarrassing ailments that come with crohns. I’m better on paper than I am verbally , but then I bet most people are. I should have continued to do what I did when I was ten years old and write a diary entry for every day for a year… it did me some good then, even if my entry’s were as basic as going to the park or having issues with my brother, 1995 was a good year on the whole, pretty problem free! I literally can tell you what I was up to 20 years ago with a little flick through my book, such discipline at a young age! However .. back then my words were like ‘I am sick I can’t play today’ … in today’s world I’d probably need three pages to express myself, oh how I’ve come on over the years.
I guess I’m just reflecting as Monday 10th October was World Mental Health day and it prompted me to think about what I’ve seen lately. Behind whatever suffering, people usually are battling some sort of mental health issues. Doesn’t have to be because you’re ill, modern life is bloody tough for us all in so many ways. The strongest people don’t cope, it’s a fact, they are just better at hiding it that’s all. There are a huge spectrum of disorders, fears and phobias out there, we are all different. If you can talk about it, however you feel most comfortable you should be proud, it’s a strength … I am and will never look back 🙂 it’s not completely curative but it’s a start.