I have always said: "I would rather be rejected for being real than accepted for the games I play."
Recently I was cyber-slandered in the midst of a deep depression and discovered a gift in two of my labels. Several actually. When you are in the depths of a "life sucks," cycle, and energy is low, one more straw doesn't break the camel's back. One more brick in the proverbial packsack is not that much heavier a load. And when I am in the fog I am not rushing around breaking things; another blessing.
Years ago, before the internet, people used to say: "Well, if they are talking about you they are leaving everyone else alone." As if that helps! And while everyone readily agrees there are two sides to every story and that a lot of things are not as they appear, they accept one sided appearances and run with them.
In Canada, the moment someone talks to the police, a file and a number are created. So the tale about me came complete with a file number, making it believable. I had cleaned a house and hauled away the garbage as directed. Now there were items missing and I was the alleged thief.
A symptom of PTSD is to always feel distant from everyone to some degree and now I welcomed the feature. Social media opinions could be whatever they were about me, whoop whoop! I know who I am and what I am. It is different and distant from the story she made up. There is a wonderful book out there entitled "What you think of me is none of my business." I want that as my next bumper sticker.
While disappointed yet again in the human nature around me that laps up negative 'information', I chose to use it as a vehicle to become better than I have been and let opinions fall where they may. The next item of drama will arrive, and my social media account won't even exist to help circulate it.
I don't last long on Facebook nor do my brief accounts. I long for the day it loses its pathological power, it's so called validity as a narration for narcissists. It is nothing but another tabloid in a world where the truth is once again subjective to perception. The best lie has some truth to it and I daresay the most skilled liar knows to use some element of truth.
I would rather stand alone than sit in the company of the fickle and the flippant. At least I can trust me to be exactly what I am; what you see is what you get: dark shadows around my eyes from oversleeping and mentally ill from both environmental and biological factors. A house cleaner, not a petty crook. Rigorously honest with myself, my higher power, and my Moodscope friends. You.
A Moodscope member.
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