Recovery Faux Pas and Facebook

I’m writing this because I’m tired. In fact, I fought and fought to never write it, because I shouldn’t need to. But I have reached my boiling point. 

I need to talk about mental illness. 

Mental illness knows no restriction. The realm of problems this even includes can go on for an entire blog post in itself. Depression, Anorexia/Bulimia, PTSD, Bipolar Disorder — anyone, and I mean anyone can suffer from these illnesses. And I don’t use the word suffer lightly. 

Before I dig in, let me stress that I know first hand this immense suffering and that I am the last person on this planet that would ever discount anyone’s personal struggle with any of these diseases. However, there is a time and a place to talk about these things. That place is not Facebook.

I am seeing an increased amount of posts on Facebook that, for lack of more sophisticated terminology, look a lot like cashing in mental illness for Facebook karma or ‘likes’. I see someone’s personal (and I mean personal in every sense of the word) struggle depicted in a series of emotionally charged paragraphs. These people lay it all out, bearing their deepest secrets and tragedies for the whole wide web to read. This is not appropriate! This is not my business! I barely know you! And I’m not the only one that doesn’t! If we’re being honest with ourselves, a minuscule number of Facebook users can say that they know even 50% of their Facebook friends on a level that such intimate information is appropriate to share. Not to mention, the broadcasting of such an individualized, personal, and even sacred struggle in such a cavalier manner – amidst the dozens of moronic Buzzfeed lists and your most recent selfie- is particularly disrespectful and quite possibly the hardest part for me to stomach of it all. It does not fit the social networking bill. Facebook should not exist as a diary. That’s why we have blogs. 

Do not confuse my intention as dismissing the authenticity of the diseases these people are suffering from or the struggle that they have undoubtedly gone through. I hear you, dear friends in recovery. I commend your courage and understand the pride in making it to the other side of the struggle. But recovery belongs to no one else but us, and the only approval we should be seeking or needing is our own with the help of God, not from the strangers we mindlessly pressed ‘Accept’ to one day. 

 

I release the shame of..

I previously mentioned the importance of acknowledging the past as a mirror. It is important to see where you’ve been and where you are and to make comparisons. Sometimes these are positive and sometimes negative. All for the greater good of knowing who you are in your entirety. 

But to live in the past is the definition of Depression. Obsessing over the finality of the past is the most useless thing you can do for the very reason that it is final. Unchangeable. This has the potential to suffocate. And most times, we don’t have the luxury of forgetting it. Our minds can torture us with bitterness or nostalgia. Those around you can maintain the perception they’ve always kept. And it is so so frustrating.

To remain in the trespasses is unwise. Cliche’s aside, people can and do change. Close-mindedness is stifling. Recently, I have felt that very suffocation. I do not like my past mirror and often have visions of taking control and shattering it into a million pieces. I was weak. I was helpless. I was unstable. I was floundering and trying to latch on to anything whether or not it was even in alignment with who I wanted to be. I know all of these things because I had the courage to look. But I have never not been intelligent. And I am smart enough to recognize that I am not there anymore. I have released the shame of hating who I was.

Unfortunately, I can not force others to make the same release. We hold our impressions based on the past because we are human, and it is all we have to go on. However, I choose to look at this moment. In this moment, I am not that girl. know that, and as difficult as it is to feel alone, it doesn’t matter if anyone else does. Where it counts is in the action. I am and will continue to be the kind of person that I am meant to be. Whether or not the world chooses to see it too is their problem.