Social media is a double-edged sword. On one hand, you can keep in contact with people who live far away. On the other hand, it makes you think you need to live up to very unrealistic expectations. You see people living these epic lives filled with one of a kind experiences and vacations. It can give you major FOMO which is the fear of missing out if you didn’t know. You wish you had forked over the dollars to go to that Celine Dion concert instead of saving your coins for something else. It is literally crazy. There have so many articles that have come out telling you that you don’t need to live up to this standard, and yet we try anyway.
Growing up I was always taught that we don’t let people know what’s going on at home. If there are issues you are working through, no one else needs to know. I could see not wanting your kids to air out the dirty laundry. Trust me, there was a lot that could have been shared. But to make it seem like we shouldn’t tell people our true feelings really confused me. I’ll skip going into all of the logistics behind that because my parents did what they thought was best at the time. How were they to know they were dealing with a mentally ill child? I hid it well.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. People get so weird when you say you’re mentally ill. The negative connotation takes over and people try to placate you. I don’t need to be placated. I have a mental illness and I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve had it for a very long time and I’ll probably have it forever bar a major chemical overhaul to my brain. Its completely fine. I can still be the awesome person I am and be mentally ill. I’m as fabulous as I’ve ever been even though sometimes, I need to shut out the world and blob. I recommend trying it if you never have before. Put on a video and just sit there. Pay attention to it or don’t. Blobbing is about doing what feels right in the moment. I’d like to point out that my parents haven’t done anything wrong…. well to make me the way I am in regard to this illness (I’d be lying if I said they never made mistakes). A psychiatrist told me a long time ago that I would have had this illness even if I had a perfect life. It just so happens that I didn’t have that luxury.
Given how I was raised, I’ve always tried to be as open as possible about the things I am dealing with. I try to talk about my mental illness, so people know that there is no “look” to depression and anxiety. I’m a sparkly wonder and I still have a hard time functioning some days. I don’t look like the typical person with depression should look according to the tv. SURPRISE! We can look completely “normal”.
Where am I going with this? I promise I have a point. My dad died. I know my circle knows this. It’s a real thing that happened. I avoided dealing with people for a few weeks, but judging by my social media, I’m fine now. Am I fine? No. I’ve avoided telling people how I feel about this situation. Its been less than two months. Am I just supposed to be over it by now? Is it okay to make jokes about death to me? I have a friend who lies a lot. Is it now okay for them to make up a story about someone having a death in the family? I can’t answer that.
I keep telling people I’m fine because I feel like that’s what they want to hear. I don’t talk about my new fear of ghosts and shadows haunting me. I don’t talk about the days where I sit and cry. I refrain from mentioning my obsession with thinking about the last time I saw my dad, he wasn’t really there. Seems heavy, right? I’m getting married this year. People ask me about the wedding and the planning process. I don’t tell them that I have a brain fog so bad that I can’t think straight. I get up for work and force myself to function and at the end of the day I can’t make myself think of anything else. I stay in my bed with my warm fuzzy blanket because it feels safe there. Every time I go into my bathroom, I hear my mom say “your dad passed away” because that’s where I found out. I was dealing with a toilet overflow issue when I finally called her back. That’s fun right? I drink a lot of water and every time I go into that room; I look at the exact spot I was standing when she told me. Where my bones gave out and I yelled. I don’t talk about how it feels like convincing myself to run a marathon in order to brush my teeth. Showers are not my friend. Each one feels like walking to the guillotine so sometimes I just don’t.
There’s so much that I’m dealing with that I’ve been keeping to myself. I talk to Dan and my therapist about it a little. I guarantee there are a few surprises for each of them in this post. Its almost like I’ve reverted back into that little girl who doesn’t share her feelings. Or that person who would tell “I don’t like when you’re sad” so often, she stopped being honest. That’s not fun for me. It sucks.
I’m not going to apologize for the direction my postings are going to take. One minute I can make a joke and the next I’ll shut down. I’m not looking for attention, I’m looking for an outlet. Obviously keeping things inside has not served me well these last few weeks. I am me and I am grieving. This is my new normal.