Sunday, 2 June 2013

A mixed blessing?

I've been back on the joy that is Facebook for a month or two, without serious mental or emotional trauma. It did help when I realised that instead of shutting down my account I could just delete those people who have shown themselves to be turds and scumburglars. So that's what I did. And Facebook is approximately 9.7% more enjoyable as a result.

It felt sort of disloyal to unceremoniously boot former friends off Facebook - it seemed to make the demise of said friendship real. In much the same way, I suppose, that you can't possibly consider yourself either in a relationship or having just finished one unless it says so on Facebook.

But then I thought about how miserable I felt when I saw their smug, disloyal, lying face and I decided that, meh, it's OK actually. And it really is.

Facebook continues to split my brain in half though. As we all know, ad nauseam, I've been ill for a while. And some weeks I'm iller than others. And most weeks I find it very difficult to go out and socialise, due to pain, malaise, exhaustion, haemorraging, that type of thing. So my social life has taken rather a battering. In that, I don't really have one. And I live in fear that the friends I have made up here will eventually cease to invite me anywhere ever as I'm usually such a no show. But at the same time, I can only really make it through work (most of the time) and do what I need to do to clean my house and myself. Socialising just doesn't come into it.

This means I spend an inordinate amount of time on my own. Like, a ridiculous amount of time. Which probably explains the blog, when you think about it. Most people are out there actually having a life. I'm more a life ponderer these days. Always nice to have some time to think isn't it? Not so nice, perhaps, when all you do is think and most of your time is alone.

And this is where Facebook is a mixed blessing. I love seeing what my friends are doing, and finding out about their parties, barbecues, weddings, babies, pets, outdoor shenanigans and the fun they're all having. I love being able to then chat to them about said fun on the little chat thing there. It's nice and makes me feel less lonely.

But sometimes. Well, like last night in fact. Everyone I knew on Facebook was either at a wedding, a BBQ, a party or a hen weekend. Literally everyone. Pretty difficult to remain positive while having the distinct feeling of being left out - completely unfairly, as I know I have people I could hang round with should I ever be well enough. But it sort of felt like when I was at school, before I'd learned that you had to actually interact with people if you wanted any friends and party invites. I was lonely then and somehow, 25 years on, I still am.

Instead of going to a BBQ/party/shagfest/date/whatevs I watched a documentary on the Tudors. And it wasn't even any good. My cat knows more about the Tudors than what they told us on that documentary. Henry VIII had a bad temper did he? DID HE? How fascinating. What an insight you've just given us into fuck all Mr Historian person. And I kept looking at Facebook as I was watching the documentary and knew that I shouldn't be comparing my life with Facebook lives. But I couldn't help it.

I'm pretty sick of watching life happen to other people. As soon as I'm better from this bloody abortive operation then I will be on the case - time to get some complaints filed and quotes gathered for private surgery. I need my life back. I want to be the one making the status about my fabulous weekend, not reading about it from my sofa.

Man, I wish invalidism was as exciting as in Emily Dickinson's day, or Florence Nightingale. I could lie on my chaise lounge dictating letters to the prime minister about healthcare reforms. And poets would come and court me. It'd be ace.

Mine is more along the lines of attempting to walk to Sainsbury's and almost passing out and puking at the counter before crawling up my stairs to collapse on the sofa. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it?

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