A while back, I came across these artistic representations of mental illness as little monsters. I can’t remember who first sent me their way, but I really resonated with the idea. Especially that anxiety is a little, hairy living being. In my mind, it latches onto the back of one shoulder and hangs on to different things in my life, whatever is providing the most interest and fuel. Recently, its entire existence was being fed with our marriage problems. We are still cautious, but the crisis seems to have passed. Anxiety got hungry and after just over a week of calm, it latched onto my self worth.
The last four days have been tough.
I worked another night shift this past weekend, and a brief chat with another nurse on the floor that night reminded me how easy I had it with my assignment. I was busy, but I had time to take good care of my patients, and make plans for how I would spend my time over the course of the shift that, for the most part, weren’t waylaid by unexpected occurrences. At the end of the shift, I came in to say goodbye to one of my patients, and she asked if she could give me a hug. I said yes.
Since I work very part-time, if a patient is having a longer stay, there is a very good chance that the eight hours I spend with them will be forgettable. I do my best to make their lives better in the short time that I spend with them, but I don’t hang onto any expectations that it will make a big difference for them or their families.
Despite the fact that I obviously made impression on a patient, I left wishing I’d been able to do more. As I walked towards the stairs on my way home, I absently pulled my phone out, opened up Instagram, and started scrolling. One of my friends had tagged a post with someone else we went to school with. I clicked through to her Instagram, then to her website. If the site is any indication, she’s successful and happy.
I knew her because we lived in the same suite freshman year. She lived next door to me and for some reason, she didn’t like me. She took it upon herself to “fix” me, since I didn’t wear makeup or even really know how to use it, let alone how to shape my brows properly.
(Dead Horse Point State Park. We stopped there after going to Arches National Park in Moab, Utah on Road Trip 2016. If you are planning a road trip and Utah is on it, stop here. It was breathtaking.)
Recently at the library, I walked up to the counter surrounded by the kids, each holding their own pile of books. The librarian greeted us, and without saying anything else, turned around and pulled my inter-library loan books off of the shelf behind the front desk.
I hadn’t given him my card, he just knows who I am.
It felt really good to be known.
I just quit Facebook a month ago. Most of my closest friends live far away. My local ones friends I see sporadically at best, almost always with kids in tow. Life feels really lonely.
Dear Mark Z.,
We’ve had a love/hate relationship since our beginning.
But I couldn’t quit you.
I finally got sick of it. You played with FBMessenger functionality to try to force me to get the Messenger app. You made old notifications look like new ones. You made the mobile experience buggy and obnoxious in an attempt to get me to download the app.
I took a break, then decided to get rid of you altogether.
I decided to try Instagram instead. At that time, I didn’t realize you owned them, too.
I started posting pics. And you started pressuring me to use my deactivated FB account to find friends to follow.
I unlinked my FB account. But you know it’s still me, so you keep asking. Not every day, but several times a week. I have been using it for 2 months and already I am considering quitting it, too.
Here’s the thing. There’s the Big Four: Apple, Google, Amazon, and Facebook. My email is through Google. I am typing this on a Mac. And right now, I am not willing to give up the convenience of Amazon. But I CAN quit you right now. I did it once already. It felt really, really good.
What is it they say about love? If you love it, set it free, and if it’s really love it will come back to you?
I turned off my Instagram notifications yesterday.
And you can keep pushing me to connect with my old FB friends through Instagram, and light up that little heart at the bottom of my screen like there is something new when there’s not, but it smacks of desperation, and if you want the truth, you are pushing me away.
Sincerely,
Laura.
Why is it easier to respond graciously to criticism when the person dispensing it isn’t close to us?
The ones who are most qualified to criticize, and do it with our best interest in mind, aren’t those acquaintances and even strangers who feel the need to make known how they feel about us and the way we choose to live. They are our loved ones, and if it isn’t safe for them to speak up when we’re not doing something right, then it might be time to re-examine priorities.