Friday was a day for the record books. I don't know what was wrong with me, but I woke up off. I was moody and melancholy and all-together miserable. The world was a dark, awful, hopeless place where I didn't belong and couldn't find a spec of beauty. I hadn't felt this down-and-out in months. It's not that I thought my sick days were behind me, per se, but I was beginning to believe we'd taken a break for a while so I could actually make some progress in my life.
But not on Friday. No, Friday was one of those days where I poured myself a stiff one at four-thirty in the afternoon. Once that was done, I decided to set my sights on social media. I have a terrible relationship with social media and usually try and avoid it. Especially when I've been drinking. It's become a platform for bullying and hate, and I find my mood, faith in the future, and self-esteem significantly lower if I spend too much time on it.
Especially on Friday. I was relatively tame on Instagram. It was a picture of my first drink. In hindsight, I realize I was warning the world to watch out for what was to come. But how was I supposed to know that at the time? I drank two more and started posting smart-aleck comments on a few big "influencer" pages I follow. Well that got my toe wet, but apparently I was looking for something more akin to a full-body soak. So I moved on to Twitter. By then the ranting raver had come out. I blasted the writer of my favorite show about how disrespectful the season premiere was to the characters' arcs. Then I went to a couple websites that had reviewed the episode and gave my peace of mind to the comments section. But apparently that was too impersonal for me.
So I sunk my teeth into Facebook, which is the most convoluted place I could've possibly gone. And by this point, I was really in a tizzy. All the pent-up rage I've been suppressing by utilizing the site as little as possible started flowing outa me like lava. On my fibro support page, I went off on Facebook for not circulating my posts because I don't pay them. They've decided I'm a business, which I'm not, and are going out of their way to ignore my content until they get their paper. So what's next? I went to my feed and scrolled. It only took a few minutes before I completely freaked out. The post I wrote on my profile page was definitely more of a rant. I mean, everyone's blatant political agenda and lack of human decency really offended me. Except what I wrote was extremely dramatic and made people start asking if I was okay...
Um...maybe...
Then my computer, literally, died. Now I'm a conspiracy theorist from jump so that sent me over the edge. I know my phone and computer are already recording everything I do and say. Now it seemed like they were going so far as to send the information to the appropriate parties. And my punishment was instantaneous! Is it fair to say I went wild?
I woke up Saturday morning having returned to a refreshingly normal state of mind. Thank God. I had to figure out what was wrong with my computer and felt a little sheepish for acting like such a freak online. But as my grandpa loved to say, there's no use crying over spilt milk. My frustration at social media met one too many bourbon drinks and bubbled over. Good riddance.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
