So, last night, after a few days of being in a not particularly great place, I had a bit of a “wobble” and contemplated the possibility of just deleting everything and fading into the background. The fact that I am writing this particular post means, obviously, I didn’t (well, not so far, anyway…). Had I done so, however, it wouldn’t have been the first time that I’ve simply decided to pack it all in. Long-term followers will be aware that this blog has been around in a number of previous versions that have, at some point, been unceremoniously deleted. In fact, given that in its current guise, this site has been around since February 2017, this is, in fact, the longest continuous incarnation that it has ever had.
Anyway, back to last night, when I posted the following tweet:
Having one of my “I should just delete everything and disappear” wobbles.
— 🏴 Kilted Wookie 🏴 (@Kilted_Wookie) January 8, 2019
As is case when I have one of these “moments”, the support I received was truly amazing and, quite frankly, humbling. I am very thankful for the comments that people left, both on my timeline and in my DMs.
The trouble is, what started as a “it’s nice that people care” feeling rapidly started metamorphosing into the inevitable “you’re just feeling sorry for yourself and seeking attention” thoughts that I invariably gravitate towards in these circumstances.
Like many people, I tent to use twitter as a form of free therapy. It’s a place where I can say what I want about what I’m thinking and feeling in the company of others; many of whom are experiencing similar or even greater problems.
Do I overshare? Almost certainly.
Do I overthink? Absolutely definitely.
I have previously been accused of narcissism. The person concerned made no bones about the fact that they thought I just wanted attention, that I broadcast my depression to wallow in the pity of others; a kind of “Look at me, I’m depressed. Feel sorry for me…” desperate search for affirmation. That particular incident would lead to one of the deletions I mentioned back at the start of this post.
The result is, I am often conflicted when it comes to posting about how I am feeling. The supportive comments of others increase that sense of conflictedness; perversely confirming the worst accusations of using my illness to gain attention and approval.
The think is, I know that’s not my intention; I am simply howling at the moon. I also know that there is no ulterior motive to the message of support I get. Mental illness is not uncommon in this community of ours, and we all rally around and support each other in whatever way we can because, the next time, the positions may well be reversed. Perhaps the most hurtful aspect about the “narcissist” accusation was that it was levelled at me, by someone from inside the community who has their own history of struggles with forms of mental illness.
I am wary now about sharing too much, but I know that it is something I have to do. Without the outlet for release that twitter provides, I would almost certainly be in a much worse position. Without having the safety of being able to retreat to my other account when things are particularly dark, to express the thoughts that I don’t even want to admit I even have some times, it may well be that I might have already succumbed. That I haven’t, and that I am writing this post is testament to how much twitter, and being part of the blogging community helps me get on with the act of living.
I do apologise if my darker outpourings upset/distress anyone, particularly those who are fighting their own battles (sometimes much less publicly than I do); my intention is never to cause upset. I tweet and blog, primarily to help me and, if it in some way helps others cope knowing that they are not alone, then that in itself is another reason for me to keep going.
Oversharing? I accept that it’s a strong possibility.
Otherthinking? It’s what I do.