Social Media has become toxic for me. I’m an emotional person or someone who doesn’t have great control of their emotions. I often respond to comments or what I see immediately without thinking. Later I over think about how I responded.
Was my response too much? Did I sound crazy? Am I now Blocked or Muted? I then worry so much my daily headache becomes a sledgehammer and my stomach is in knots. All of this over responses on social media that half the time most people don’t read.
Then I get upset thinking that no one is reading my comments or cares what I have to say. I don’t matter.
Then I have the other problem of when someone responds to what I’ve written and it happens to be a known musician. I can’t be happy about it because I know the trolls are coming. And sure enough I’ll have a message in my DM box supposedly from the musician who liked something I wrote except it’s not really them!!
This pisses me off to no end. It took 2 months to get rid of fake Steven Tyler. Not one person from Mr. Tyler’s team could take a second to say “Yes we know about this guy and we’re handling it”. If John 5 can do it I think Steven Tyler has enough people to do it also.
I shouldn’t have to teach myself hacking and private investigating skills to take care of the situation myself. This person got my cell number, I was receiving 10 texts a night. I would block them and he would get around it, all the while insisting he was Steven Tyler.
The person was relentless. He didn’t want money, a bank account number, social security number, or anything else he just kept saying he wanted “true love”. He’s more delusional than I am if he thought that was the way to go about it.
What was making me angry was watching all the women that honestly believed he was Steven Tyler. I’m suspicious by nature and have major trust issues so I wasn’t going to fall for it unless he showed up in a private jet at walked out of it as the real Steven Tyler. I’m not an idiot. Unfortunately when you’re honest about mental illness and addiction people assume you are.
All of a sudden they talk louder and slower like I’m hard of hearing and 5 years old. Sometimes I laugh and sometimes I feel an itch in my right palm because I want to punch them. It’s worse when doctors do it.
I was on Twitter looking up Antique Clock Dealers when for some reason James Woods showed up. I’ve seen him at auctions but not for clocks so I clicked on his Twitter account to see if he changed hobbies. Bad idea.
I should’ve known I would be subjected to Mr. Woods political opinions. The big one was how many “Millions of children have been murdered by abortion in the last 40 years”. Now I’m pretty sure he hasn’t adopted any children, I’m also sure he can’t even take his mother’s dog to PetSmart without being rude and condescending to woman at the counter. I’ve also seen him literally push an elderly man out of his way during an auction. He messed with the wrong old guy because he got sharp elbow in the ribs for his bad behavior. I laughed. (It was my Dad doing the elbowing) I was going to comment on his Twitter account but I was able to control myself. Yay!
Last week I listened to Dark Matter Radio with Dave Navarro except Dave wasn’t there. The group was discussing homeless people and how they probably make more money than they do by panhandling. Some other comments were made. I admit it hit a nerve.
I wrote to them discreetly a story about a man with Schizophrenia who never panhandled. He did odd jobs for an old man that owned a gas station. He chose to be homeless because being forced to take the medications that made him grind his teeth, drool, and shake uncontrollably was too much. Yes, he self-medicated with Heroin for years and contracted HIV. He lived many years with HIV until 2 years ago when he passed away from AIDS related pneumonia. I explained that this man was kind, generous, and funny. His favorite joke was “What’s black and white, black and white, black and white?” I would say “What?” already knowing the answer “A nun falling down the stairs!” He would laugh like a little kid and hug me goodbye. He was my Uncle. I loved him.
I wanted them to see homeless people in different way. I received a response of “Thanks for sharinf” Yup, it was spelled wrong. Who knows who read it but I doubt it was the people who needed to.
As a side note, my Dad told me yesterday he didn’t think he was ever really capable of loving another person. I asked him “Not anyone? Your mother? Sisters or brothers?”. He said “Maybe my mother but that’s it”. No mention of my mother, or his children. How am I supposed to deal with that? My sister said it was my own fault for talking to him. I don’t get it. So I’m on my own. I can’t really enjoy anything lately. Even music makes things worse or I feel let down somehow. Feelin’ broke can’t get fixed.