The Reality Of It All

Recently I've fallen down the rabbit hole. It looks like I've been making progress, but inside I feel worse than ever. Other people have such busy lives and yet I feel exhausted at the thought of my minor commitment to writing one blog post a week. Although I know people read the blog I don't get much feedback from people. I can understand why, especially if readers are experiencing similar problems to my own, it can be scary and hard to speak up, even online. I have thousands of page views, yet I feel like no one is out there. I hear no reply when I call out, but I never want to skip a week of posting. I don't care about how many followers I have on various social media platforms, I'm not the type of person or blogger that is driven by gaining hundreds of followers. Of course each page view and follower I do have I am very grateful for. The thing that keeps me going and motivates me is the idea and hope that at least one person benefits from reading these posts, that makes it all worthwhile to me. 

My apologies if these ramblings don't make sense, my waking hours are few in number these days. You'd think I'd be bright eyed and alert, but I'm more tired than ever and it only takes me being up for an hour before I'm crawling back upstairs to bed. 

Of course it can be motivating, inspiring and uplifting to read the words of someone who is recovering from a mental illness. It provides hope and confidence that you too will succeed in defeating the dark monster. I used to find it equally helpful and reassuring to read about other people's worst times too. Sounds terrible to most people, but just knowing that you aren't alone in what you're feeling can also be helpful.

My cheery thoughts this week are on some of the (simple) truths of depression. I'm overwhelmed by everything, yet I have nothing going on in my life. I frequently feel very lonely, but I'm terrified of leaving the house and meeting new people. I want to be up and about getting on with tasks, but I'm confined to my bed. I want to watch a funny film, but even the lighthearted moments make me sad. My mind is racing, but I can't fixate on a single thought. I don't want to waste time, yet I sleep the day away. I feel disgusting, but I don't have the strength to stand in the shower. I have lots of ideas but no self belief. My life isn't bad, but I'm so unhappy.

Presentation Of Self

I had intended to create a half natural/naked face and a half 'made up' creation for you. However, fate and bad omens intervened and packed me off to A&E in the early hours of this morning with a very painful eye infection. But hopefully you'll soon understand why this is applicable to this week's post. 

Social media and the Internet have allowed us to both restrict how much online friends see of our lives and has allowed us to over-share aspects of our lives with the masses. I've been following various bloggers for years now, their picture perfect posts can often make a full time career of blogging seem idyllic. However, that's not always the reality. In a world of Instagram, Youtube and Facebook we are constantly updating people with what's occurring in our lives, or are we? Our friends and followers don't know how long it took to take that 'perfect' selfie or how many times it took to get the perfect group shot without someone looking bored as hell in it. These posts are snapshots in time depicting what seems to be the time of our lives. Perhaps it was, but the reality is we have no idea what's going on with a person behind all of the layers of social media.

We've become a generation that's obsessed with taking a peak into other people's lives. What we eat, wear, apply to our faces and what we do at the weekends has become important content for our online profiles. We shouldn't be worried about what those Facebook 'friends' (the ones we haven't spoken to in years) think should they decide we're worthy of a good profile stalking session. The truth is that we modify how we present ourselves online. We edit out any existence of awful photos, we ensure we don't publicly share something embarrassing and we probably make it look like we're healthier than we actually are! This is not healthy for the young, impressionable followers and even friends that see our online activity. There ought to be a balance of content posted to prove that we all have that awkward teenager stage in life, that there were times when we were victims of fashion, roll on glitter and blue eyeshadow, and there should be evidence of a healthy lifestyle which includes salads, exercise AND a nice big portion of chips every now and then!

I'm guilty of censoring my online activity and attempting to present the best version of myself online. I'm quite proud of the content I produce for this blog. I spend a great deal of time thinking of the perfect photo to go with a post. What you don't see is that I'm probably wearing pyjama bottoms, the lighting used makes it seem like the photos were taken in the morning when I definitely didn't emerge from bed until 3pm, and you certainly don't see the mini meltdown I have over realising that I have a post scheduled for 8pm and I'm running around the house like a mad woman trying to take photos, edit and upload them. I restrict how much information I share on this blog as well. It might not seem like it as I've discussed some very personal and distressing things that have occurred in my life, but I skim over the truly intimate details that could harm others and most likely send me back over the edge from reliving them. My point is that you shouldn't talk yourself down if you've seen someone looking 'perfect' online. They may seem to have it all sussed, but you never know what's really going on with someone. Be kind to yourself and to others as you never know who's walking around battling the demon inside.

On a more lighthearted note, do you realise that you've never seen my torso or legs featured on this blog?! OK maybe once if you want to go digging for it. The truth is that I'm extremely uncomfortable having full body photos taken of me, I always think the worst of myself when I see them. Plus I'm probably wearing pyjamas, jogging bottoms or literally anything with an elasticated waistband because I'm having an IBS flare up. I face this problem fairly regularly, the scenario of me sitting on the floor surrounded by various sizes of jeans, last week's favourite pair have become my most loathed pair due to a bloated belly. My inner demon will say "you've got fat, it's all gone to your arse and even those 'boyfriend jeans' look like skinny jeans now". This usually sends me straight back to bed to sob for a few hours. No. Not today. Kindly sod off inner demon, they will fit again one day. Now go forth and be that sassy emoticon!