I keep thinking I can handle Social Media. The truth is I can’t. So I have to get off the train before it derails.
The last straw was when a person spoke up about Cyberbullying in a blunt and truthful manor. I thanked him because no one else has said it that clearly. He actually said “We don’t want you as listeners. We don’t need people like you.” He didn’t respond which was fine. What wasn’t fine was the retweet of my Tweet from @ShouldBeSteril. A person who advocates for the sterilization of the Mentally Ill, people with low IQs or physical defects, basically anyone who isn’t perfect.
I can’t say I was too surprised because I’ve had it said or written to me before. I put myself out there as an advocate for Mental Health. I made my life an open book.
What these “people” don’t realize is I’m a human being. Yes I chose to not have children when I was diagnosed. But don’t think for a minute that I didn’t want them. Before I was diagnosed as Bipolar I knew I drank too much and didn’t live a lifestyle suitable to raise a child. At least I knew this when so many do not.
The part that hurt was when the word “choice” was taken away. When I no longer had one. When my body decided without me to go into early Menopause leaving me unable to have children beginning at the age of 39.
Just to punish myself I watched Bridget Jones’s Baby last night. She’s 43 (same age as I am now) and finds herself pregnant not knowing who the father is. I really must hate myself. I cried through the entire thing. So thanks for the suggestion of sterilization but you’re too late. Plus I’ve been Celibate for over 8 years by choice, although your celibacy probably isn’t.
So I’m going to cool it on the Social Media. My blogs will post there but I will not actually go on Twitter any longer. It’s where I always find trouble and end up feeling much worse about everything. I can’t handle it. I take everything too personally. I am the Bipolar person you hear about that walks around with every nerve ending constantly exposed. No matter what I do, medications I try, Shock Therapy, it only worsens. I probably cry 20 times a day. Not always due to sadness. I cry because I’m frustrated, alone, scared, haven’t heard a human voice in days, I smell something that brings back a memory, I see something that recalls a memory, and again frustration. I have such a difficult time expressing myself with words to people in person that I’ve given up. I start to sweat, I can feel the blood rushing to my head, and the stuttering starts. The more I’m embarrassed about my stuttering the worse it is. Then I cry because I can’t talk.
I give up. It isn’t worth it anymore. I wanted to try to make a difference. I wanted to help. Now I want nothing. I want to not shower for a month, go out to the wilderness and find a pack to take me in. That isn’t crazy talking I’ve always felt more comfortable with animals. I understand how they work. Humans are too cruel and complex.