Gosh, it’s been a spell.

Which means this is likely to turn into a bit of a ramble.

But I’m not going to apologize. Like I normally would. There would be no point. I have nothing to apologize for, right?

Did I (semi) remove myself from the chaos encircling the world?
Fucking right I did.
Did I make the decision to offer my own mental health some time to recuperate?
Fucking right I did.
Did I feel guilty/bad that I wasn’t as active as I normally on my various social spaces? Fucking right I did.

And that is a problem.

I think it is a part of human nature to want to be involved, to be heard, to make a difference. For some that comes easy. For others it requires work. For most that “want” is for a positive outcome. But I would gamble as much as there are some who chose to abstain, there are those who seek out negativity.

And by that, I mean there are loads of fucking assholes out there who want to inflict harm upon others – whether that harm be physical, emotional, psychological or any other “-al” you can think of.

While Covid-19 and all the baggage it brought didn’t really change our life, there’s a lot about it all that has me rattled. Most of the cause/effect has come from the social media sphere, general media, and the impact all of it has had on my child.

But really, it might all just be in my mind. Where it has always been. No need for provocation from external forces.

Separation Anxiety

If you have spent any time here (or on my IG/FB feeds) you know I live with a handful of mental illnesses. Some of which make daily life incredibly difficult for me. And likely those in my circle. More specifically, in my household.

When we opted to remove our child from public school in the spring of last year, my husband and I had concerns. But not the same concerns.

He was concerned that our son would suffer socially. That lack of interaction with other children would be a hindrance, and that he would struggle with interactions and relationships with others.

I was concerned that he would resent me. Selfish as that might sound. My worries came from a place of perceived isolation. Because I work from home (and prefer to be at home), I was already responsible for the bulk of the parenting. Now I was going to be responsible for educating too. And I feared our son would grow to resent me because we would be together all the time.

After several months, our concerns seemed silly.

Our kiddo still saw friends he had made, went out in the world and interacted (brilliantly) with others, and socialized via groups and lessons. He and I got along well, and it didn’t appear that all that time with me was going to have a negative impact on our relationship.

Enter Covid-19.

Once things shut down, and it was recommended we stay home, there was a shift. Suddenly, we had nowhere to venture during the day. We couldn’t blow off steam perusing an antique market or grabbing a drink and rummaging around the bookstore. No longer could we hit the movie theatre mid-day and have it all to ourselves or make the trek for an unscheduled visit to see my folks.

We survived for a time. But I think both the kiddo and I have had some struggles. I know for sure that he has, because he has told us how much he misses play dates, family/friend visits, and just going out to do “stuff.” And even though my anxiety disorders make going out in the world difficult, I too was struggling to be here all the time.

Social Media Madness

The world has become such a loud place. Even when you take a step back, you are inundated with all the whys, and the guilt of silence.

I made a conscious decision to limit my time on social media and my interactions there; it can be a toxic space and I needed to be sure that what I was ingesting was not. I also wanted to make sure that I didn’t flood that space unnecessarily, and that what I shared was of value.

The global pandemic seems to be, like most societal things these days, polarizing. People emerged with some unsavoury behaviours while others triumphed with kindness. Some people took a call for safety as personal insult while others pleaded for care and caution.

All the voices, the good and the bad, became too much for me. My head space was overwhelmed and I withdrew out of caution. But also because I no longer saw a purpose to my presence in it all.

In the last few months, it seems, people have become more outspoken. More opinions are being expressed. I haven’t yet figured out if that is because some people have more time on their hands or if the pandemic caused a wave (more like a fucking tsunami) of entitlement…

It seems to me, in addition to those who feel we are all sat here waiting for them to share their opinions (when we are not), there is a collection of of people who have suddenly bestowed medical degrees upon themselves and/or feel they now have multi-faceted expertise.

Chickens and Eggs

All of a sudden mental health became fashionable.

I agree wholeheartedly it requires attention. I even believe that it is more important than physical health, because an uncared-for mind cannot implement the necessities of one’s physical being.

BUT mental health is NOT mental illness.

And people were out there taking advantage.

The trouble with this trendy world we now find ourselves in, is that no one seems to do the leg work to educated themselves. If it ends up with a bunch of IG/FB LIKES then it must be true.

People have become lazy. No one seeks the truth. Informed choices now a thing of the past. Due diligence no longer exists. In fact, it doesn’t seem to matter anymore where “it” (whatever the fuck it is – a social issue, a product) all began. And why.

Like why is society suddenly concerned about mental health? Because it is a profitable endeavour? Shouldn’t we have always paid it mind?

For me, those are powerfully insightful questions, to which the answers can and will provide a great deal of meaningful information. As well as proper footing to move forward.

Is ranting really raving?

If you are still here, reading, thank you. Sometimes my mind is so full it spills over and I worry that may be what happened today. Regardless, my gratitude for your time and readership is no less.

I am proud of myself for making it all this way without an issued apology. I am unsure if chronic apologies come via my own nature or the nurture of my citizenship. But I am pleased that I have allowed myself the freedom to just get on with it…

There’s bucket loads still trapped up in my head. So many thoughts and worries. Feelings of inadequacy that I just can’t shake. I find going on social media really difficult because I see the interactions between my various “friends” and wonder why they do not interact with me. What draws them together and leaves me outside the lines?

My desire to make a difference, in both the general world and specifically the T1D community, seems to constantly be shut down and I wonder if I should continue. It makes me wonder if I have put people off, dampening the fires I seek to fuel.

Acknowledging the chaos that dwells in my brain only takes me so far. Expressing some of it (because all of it would be too much for all of us, trust me) takes me a little further.

The truth is, I write this engulfed with fear.
Because I’m worried I’m on the brink of an episode.
The truth is, I do not feel worthy of anything good from anywhere or anyone.
Because I’m worried I’m on the brink of an episode.
The truth is, I am lost and unmotivated, no longer able properly to give.
Because I’m worried I’m on the brink of an episode.

And that is a problem.

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