My hate-hate relationship with social media.

I’m what some people would consider an over sharer. I have shared personal details about my journey with depression on all my social media accounts. I started that because I wanted to put a face to that illness. Depression always seemed like something that happened to other people not the people in our lives. Other people. So I started sharing to show people that it could happen to anyone. I mean, those who knew me in real life knew me as this happy person so it was important for me to show people that depression could happen to happy people as well.

I am a generally an open person. I don’t mind talking about a lot of things people shy away from talking about so my social media accounts had personal information. I am also so deeply in love with my boyfriend, I like him as a person and I am deeply in love with him. So I shared about him, our relationship and some conversations we had that I thought were hilarious.

That has worked well for me. I have had people open up to me because I have been open about my own journey. However of late I have developed a hate-hate relationship with social media. It started with twitter. I was the self proclaimed queen of “my boyfriend” twitter cos I tweeted mostly about him and the general silliness of men. Men are strange creatures and having a front row sit to a man’s life the way I do with my boyfriend gave me so much content. I had so much fun at his expense, I’m sorry my angel. But it was always just banter.

And then I started getting comments from some really miserable people. I swear twitter has given so much space and freedom to low lives. So I thought it was now too toxic for me even after I made my account private. So without even thinking twice I deleted my account and just never went back. No, I don’t miss it.

I stayed on Facebook and Instagram. Those seemed like the happy spaces. I loved them. Everyone was just nice there. I could deal with that. Until last week. In fact I think it started way before last week but I only became aware of it last week.

See I’m turning 29 next week. I am BIG on birthdays. I love celebrating birthdays. I buy cake not just for my birthday but for other people’s birthdays. That’s how much I love them. But for some reason I was feeling miserable about turning 29. In fact I remember crying and journaling about how I felt like such a failure and had absolutely no reason to celebrate my birthday this year.

It was very strange for me because I’m always excited for my birthday. Journaling is my spiritual practice. I really go deep within myself and analyse my feelings. So I started asking myself why I was suddenly feeling like such a failure, hating my life and dreading my birthday. I mean, I’d been okay the whole time. So I asked myself what was informing my feelings of being a failure. And like a ton of bricks it hit me, INSTAGRAM!

See on instagram everyone’s life is perfect. My peers have all the shiny careers, fancy cars, fancy homes and can afford to go on international holidays like it costs the same as a loaf of bread. By consuming all that shiny “success” every day I was subconsciously comparing myself to everyone on my timeline. Oh the sadness!

I went to uni when I was 18 going on 19. I was forced to study something I would have never chosen for myself. I absolutely hated studying Accounting. I always knew without a shadow of doubt that I didn’t want to be an accountant even though I excelled in it in high school. High School was easy, man. But I knew for sure that I did not want to be an accountant. My dad on the other hand believed he knew better so he forced me to do the damn degree.

That depressed me. Looking back I think I got depressed in my first year of uni but did not get an official diagnosis until 2016. Anyway, I got the damn degree. It took me 5yrs to complete the 3yr degree. That’s how much it just killed my soul. And after I got the degree I had to get a job. The unfortunate thing about that was that because I had a degree in Accounting I stood a greater chance of getting jobs in accounting than anything else.

Sure enough I got a job in Accounting. If I thought getting my degree was going to kill me I surely had no idea how working in accounting would be. I HATED it. It felt like something I was still being forced to do. So I thought to myself, “maybe it’s just the organization I’m in”. So I changed jobs. Jesus Christ. I landed in hospital with major depression while in that new job. I hated it. I remember the first thing I told my psychiatrist while dazed and high on psychiatric meds was “I HATE MY JOB!”

So for the past 5yrs I have been jumping from one job to the other trying to make something of this damn Accounting degree. And now a week before I turn 29 I’m looking back and realizing I have no career to speak of. I’ve just had a series of jobs which I’ve all hated and no career to speak of. That is what was depressing me. Because people I went to school with all seem to have great careers and are thriving in their chosen fields.

I have been telling people that this past decade has been a complete waste. I feel like I have wasted my life trying to make my father’s dream for me come true and I have failed dismally at it. My god. I cannot even begin to describe just how I hate all the jobs I’ve had. The past ten years feels like I’ve been limping because of a pair of ill fitting shoes. I went and got a postgraduate diploma in Business Administration with the hopes of getting an MBA and maybe stumbling upon something that interested me in the corporate world. And at this point I am convinced there’s nothing for me in corporate.

That is what has been flashing in all caps in my head: FAILURE!

But you know what. I quit instagram last night and deactivated my facebook account because I realized I was being unkind to myself by comparing myself to other people. Sure enough I haven’t found anything I like in the working world. Trust me, I have tried it all. My CV is long. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t achieved anything in the past 10yrs.

I got the damn degree that almost killed me. I gave myself endless chances to begin afresh with each job. I followed my curiosity. I was brave with my life. I beat depression. I picked myself up when I thought it was over for me. I have woken up to fight another day even on days when it’s felt like the world was on top of me. I got over hurt and betrayal and gave love another chance- which has paid off. I mean, these aren’t the type of achievements we brag about on social media. But they are real victories for me. I have come a loooong way to be here!

I will not be doing the great injustice to myself of comparing myself to anyone else ever again because only I have walked my path and only I know what I have had to overcome to be here. I am proud of myself for making it to this day. I am proud of the work I have done in healing my inner child. And as 29 approaches I want to take off these ill fitting shoes that are my father’s dreams for me. They certainly do not fit me.

I have gotten over my self doubt and now I trust myself enough to know what I want for myself. My wish for my 29th birthday is for the courage and grace to begin afresh again this time in a path of my choosing. It’s been a tough ten years but I am still here. And that is more than enough for me. I have spent the last decade laying a solid foundation for who I want to be.

Without daily reminders of how everyone’s life is just “better” I will be focusing more on me. Here’s to 29!