I’m still here

You might be here because you noticed that I’m missing from Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook. I’m here, I’m okay-ish, but I’m not online.

I generally liked being online, but lately, everything makes me angry or sad, even good things. I wish I had any modicum of self-control when it came to being online, but I don’t. I find myself closing an app and then immediately opening it again to my own horror. I’ve tried logging out and deleting apps from my phone, but that lasts until I’m in front of a computer and I log right back in, and then I reinstall them on my phone because I’ve already failed to stay away.

I’m not in a good headspace and haven’t been for quite a while. I’m in therapy and under the care of a physician, but I have my own work to do, too. My full-time job is recovery, and it’s hard to recover when I’m constantly triggered by things in my environment. I can’t control the content, but I do have control over the exposure.

I do toxic things like comparing my very small victories to others’ accomplishments and then I feel even worse about myself. Actually, I feel really bad about myself most of the time. Being online and bombarded with thousands of people’s seemingly awesome lives isn’t good for me. I know that Person X has just landed their dream job and is so happy! … and yet I’m here on medical leave wondering if I have enough mental capacity to return to work, ever. Person Z is so excited to announce their pregnancy! … and I’m wondering if I should have kids at all because the planet is melting and on fire and what if I can’t handle being a mom? Person Y got a raise! … and I took a $15k pay cut for a job that was supposed to be all about opportunity and was somehow the opposite of that, and I actually feel like they stole something from me. Person N is on vacation, again! … I don’t even want to go on vacation but I’m jealous of them anyway. Person D just seems content and I’m jealous of them, too. Person A is doing this awesome thing! Person B is doing this awesome thing! Karen* is like, if you do this thing, you will be happy, too! I’M FUCKING TRYING, KAREN. Karen is also not a doctor or a medical professional of any sort and she should probably stop telling people how to be happy like it’s the gospel truth. Normally I would be delighted that Karen has found herself, but Karen feels like my adversary now because she’s happy and I’m not. This is entirely my problem and not hers.

I’m okay, I’m still here, I’m just opting out of consuming other people’s lives because it’s not nutritious or nourishing, it’s junk food and I’ve been consuming it in large amounts and I don’t feel good. Therapy is not going to work if I keep returning to the things that contribute to my unrest and unhappiness, so I’m giving internal peace a chance by peacing out. Take care of yourselves.

*Karen is a fictional character and I apologize to all Karens who feel victimized by the internet. I have a cousin named Karen and she is lovely. 

An important message: Consent still applies to pregnant ladies

The following is from my dear friend affectionately known as Nurse Nathalie, or @howetolove on the Twittersphere:

This maternity shirt was lovingly given to me by an amazing coworker as a jest to my disdain for people touching my belly since being pregnant, but it brings forward the important concept of consent. A wise nurse once modelled to me the importance of obtaining consent from a patient before ever touching her breasts, abdomen, or private areas before an exam, and since then, I’ve always tried to model this for newer staff. It may seem like the abdomen is a normal place to touch or rub a pregnant woman, but truthfully, would you do that to anyone else? I believe that usually it is an area reserved for a consensual intimate relationship, and that fact doesn’t change in pregnancy just because a baby is kicking away. It’s not that you CAN’T touch a pregnant belly, but more that you should gain consent before doing so, even if already implied to close friends, immediate family, and your partner. Imagine for a second, a woman who had been sexually assaulted at some point in her life; a point where consent was taken away from her. Imagine bringing those feelings back, even if your touch was well-intentioned. This is why you have to ask, and respect the answer immediately. This is not a hormone fueled rant, but more a peaceful, thought provoking piece on consent, based on my observations and feelings so far as a pregnant woman.

I know many, many times over how amazing it is to share in the life being created by a woman during pregnancy, but if you weren’t invited to do so, all you have to do is ask. 🙂 ❤

can't touch this