Mixed messages & withdrawing from social media

Mixed messagesAnyone viewing my social media accounts over the weekend might be forgiven for thinking that things might have been improving radically. I say radically given my last blog entry and because both my Facebook & Twitter accounts show a few days that reflect a life that I lost two years ago. However, as I hope people have come to know, the truth behind the pictures can often be very different. These mixed messages that I unintentionally throw out can be dangerous, triggering, and can cause me a lot of harm. They are the reason why I have taken the decision to stop posting on Facebook and limit my Twitter activity. I’ll stop short of removing the accounts altogether as some people contact me through them exclusively, but it’s safer not to post. Allow me to explain my thoughts and clear up the mixed messages.

My weekend began on Friday with a long standing planned trip to Lincolnshire with my brother. I had paid for a short break for his 40th birthday at a fishing lake complete with a stay in a luxury lodge right next to the lake’s edge. This all felt safe to me, my brother isn’t the sort that would pressure me in regard to my eating disorder behaviours and the location was remote enough that I wasn’t going to get overawed by interaction with other people. The lodge and settings were idyllic and, despite the weather not being ideal, our stay was good. I won’t pretend my behaviours were in check, they were as bad as they ever are, and in some respects when pushed were a little worse. However, they didn’t interfere with the stay and we had fun, did plenty of fishing, relaxed and my brother seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself.

We left on Sunday morning and whilst travelling back some seriously leftfield events occurred. There was one thing that saddened me and left me confused. Someone I had been growing close to recently suddenly hit reverse after I believed we were on a level playing field and scrambled my brain. Asperger’s. Relationships of any kind. It’s a toxic mix. I need to stop it. Anyway. I was aware that my favourite festival, Barn On The Farm, had been taking place all weekend. Last year, after 4 consecutive years of attending, I had missed it whilst being in the unit in Norwich. Had I not been, of course, I wouldn’t have been in any place to have gone. Even so I found it distressing that I was missing a festival that I adored whilst so many of my friends and favourite bands & artists were performing. It’s such a unique festival and my experience of it is, in itself, always unique. I’ve invariably been involved with one or two of the acts performing and have been able to have access to all areas. I’ve therefore been able to hang out with and meet some of the big names that have played there. It’s amazing, it’s like one big family year on year.

One of my favourite bands was playing this year, as they have for a number of years now, Amber Run. I had a ticket to see them in September but certain plans mean that I will no longer be able to see them. With this in mind suddenly I had a deep yearning to go to the festival that afternoon. All the fear and anxiety was replaced by a desire to be immersed by their music. Maybe it was that memory of being filled by Paramore’s music a couple of weeks ago, by forgetting everything else and letting the music carry me. How could I get through the rest of the day with 2000 people there? There was sure to be plenty of people there I knew. Maybe that would be enough to get me through and then I could rely on the music. However, I didn’t have a ticket. There had been lots of people selling some before, maybe someone had an unsold one going still. I began to look. Just as I realised this was going to be fruitless a friend on Facebook posted a picture from the festival. He is a sound engineer and had been working for a band there the previous evening. I asked if he was still there and he told me he would be doing the sound for Amber Run that evening and offered to get me in. I will forever be in his debt.

So, later that afternoon I was there. Barn On The Farm 2017. Was it easy? Not one bit. As I walked down that track in the picture I was an absolute bag of nerves. There was one event that made it a LOT worse. I seldom talk about this publicly, in fact I’ve never mentioned it on this blog and I never will after this. One of the first people I saw was my daughter. This was extremely hard. She stopped talking to me almost 3 years ago and has nothing to do with anyone on my side of her family. She has made it known that she doesn’t want people close to her to know that I am anything to do with her and I respect her wishes. It hurts, and there’s not a day goes by when I don’t wish that things were different. Seeing her sparked a whole wave of emotion and I thought about leaving immediately, but she saw me and headed in a different direction quickly, as she did the few times I saw her during the rest of the day. With her was her best friend, the daughter of the woman I was dating at the start of my problems (remember her?) Talk about triggering events. 

I stayed. I went and stood by one of the stages, shaking with fear, triggered by what I just described, the people, just about everything that was going on. I’d wanted to run. Then someone I knew, an artist who had performed there many times but was there just to enjoy joined the crowd. I said hello to her and, after several glances she recognised me and greeted me enthusiastically. I was really glad but, again, it made me sad. The fact that I was no longer instantly recognisable made me feel uneasy because I’m not Simon anymore, or, at least, I’m a hidden version. The conversation was so quickly about how I am and not about the festival and the music. I understand, people care, people want to know. Just after that quite a few old friends appeared, including one of my closest friends from a time two years ago before I got so ill. It was great to see him. Great but so very difficult. I know he had found it hard to see me change, to see me fall from where I was to how I am now. I’d heard very little from him since those times and it had made me sad, but I know that this has been the case for so many people. Even people I still have contact with things are not as they were. I am not me, Simon is not the dominant character anymore.

The rest of the day was a paradox. On one hand it was fantastic. When music was the core, when conversations were centred around a time gone by with people from that time I felt calm, ok, good. However, anything about the present was all too real. If I was around food, or being encouraged to eat, or felt enclosed I felt horrible, I felt triggered. I was reminded that whilst I could talk about the past, be reminded of it, that reality was very different. The now is dark, the light is behind me. I can only view it as someone views a photograph, a memory. Reality has to be viewed through the eyes and that’s something I’m forced to do no matter how hard I try not to. I hate it. The worst thing is this; those people I came into contact with from my past all want the Simon in the photograph back. They don’t want to look through their eyes and have what they see before them, they want the memory. I do too, however the reality is different. He’s gone and I have NO IDEA how to get him back. You see, I take the positives of the day – Amber Run were sensational, it was lovely to see old friends and the pictures you can see of me with smiles on my face with those people are real – but the reality is different. I grieve for the same things all those people are grieving for. The Simon they loved has gone. Nobody wants to know who I am now, not even I do.

So why do I want to stop posting on social media? It’s back to the mixed messages. Someone said that it was great to see me making steps forward. Simply put, I’m not. I went because I wanted to hear music. It was great to see old friends. I was reminded, however, that I am not the person I was, or at best that person is buried by the mess that I have become. I’m trapped by a monster who has locked me up in a cage and has the key firmly in his grip. I can’t wrestle that key from him. He’s laughing at me. Whenever someone says I am making steps forward I get sad, angry, distressed and numb all at the same time. I don’t blame people for thinking it – anyone would – but it’s time for me to take control of what I’m putting out there. The best way to do that is to put nothing out. I will continue to blog but the only way people will come to it is if they look. I won’t alert anyone to it anymore. Twitter is different. I can comment on my football stuff, I can comment on a tweet about music. It’s easy, I don’t have to be personal about things. Facebook, however, I’ll keep my account but not communicate publicly. I have to be less mixed.

Maybe one day the photograph will come back to life. Maybe one day the photograph will be all that’s left. One thing is for sure, they won’t be my photographs. I’ve just sold my camera gear. No point keeping hold of things I can’t use. I’ve bought a point and go. That feels a lot more apt. Point and go. No mixed messages.

 

July 4th, 2017 by