I post too much.
I post too much, I share too much, I say too much, and I write TOO MUCH.
I get it. You’re sick of reading it. You’re sick of hearing it. You say my posts are OTT (over the top). I know you see my posts and you roll your eyes as you scroll by. I know you talk about me with mutual friends about how much I post, about how much I share. I know you judge me. I know you’re bored of me. I know you’re tired of me.
Hell, even I’M tired of ME!
You see, most days I have absolutely no adult conversation. None. I talk with my kids and they tell me about their day. But they are kids. There are things about adult conversation that I don’t get from my kids. I can’t really talk about my day, not that there’s much to tell anyway. Between them going to school and then coming home, I don’t talk to anyone. So I have all this crap going on in my life, and I have no one to talk to about it. Not even my husband. He and I have separate bedrooms, and separate TV rooms. And I can’t talk to him because a) he doesn’t listen, and b) he doesn’t care. Besides, the rugby/golf/league/soccer/darts/synchronised swimming is usually on.
So I post. I post because I am bored. I post because I am lonely. But mostly I post because I miss having someone to talk to.
Last week was World Duchenne Awareness Day. It followed on from the ten year anniversary of James’s diagnosis. It was a pretty tough week, as it always is. This time every year is tough. This time every year I post about how hard it is. And this time every year I receive zero calls asking if I’m okay. Oh, I get messages from some friends who know I’m finding it hard, those friends who worry about me. And their messages are always appreciated. Always. Thank you so much to those that messaged me this year. But there are people who see my posts, roll their eyes, and think “There she goes again, I wish she’d shut up!”
I wish I’d shut up. I wish I didn’t have this period in September that affected me so much. But it does. And I’m not going to apologise. I post because I WISH those close to me would care enough to pick up the phone or text me and actually ask if I’m okay, or let me know they are thinking about me. I wish they would do that, instead of talking about how I post way too much, and how OTT I am.
I’m OTT because I’m overwhelmed. I’m OTT because I have no one else to talk to. I’m OTT because I have to get it all out before I explode. I don’t need anyone to judge me, I need them to support me.
We spent 10 years overseas. I planned our wedding from Tokyo. All by myself. I went to all my prenatal appointments and had invasive testing. All by myself. I gave birth to four magnificent babies and learned how to be a mother. All by myself. I had four miscarriages. All by myself. I sat in a doctor’s office with my 2-year old son whilst a smiling doctor delivered him a death sentence. All by myself. Julian and I lived through the aftermath of that diagnosis. Together but alone. We have lost our home, our life has fallen apart, we have watched our beautiful boy deteriorate. And we have weathered it. Together but alone.
And so I post. Because I feel so alone.
I don’t have the luxury of family nearby, offering up their services to give us a break. I don’t have a shoulder to cry on, I don’t have a group of girls I can hang out with and bitch about the kids or my husband or life in general. I don’t have a group of friends who take me out to cheer me up. And that’s no one’s fault but my own.
And so I post. In the hope that someone will comment. In the hope that someone will say something to make me feel better. In the hope that I won’t feel so alone. In the hope that someone might even say “I know how you feel and I’m here for you”.
I post. And it’s my Facebook page. So please, instead of talking about me and judging me, instead of rolling your eyes and scrolling past, you might just take the time to ask if I’m okay.
Because most of the time, that’s all I need. To know I’m not alone in all of this.