Archive for the ‘The Hate Mail’ Category

If you had told me a week ago that I would be center stage in a heaping pile of internet drama, I would’ve laughed at you. I rarely engage in drama, and the few times I do it’s either because I’m lacking sleep and totally forget myself or because someone I care about is struggling. And even then, I usually regret it.

I think we’re all naturally attracted to drama because it has that train wreck quality. You can watch it happening and predict the end long before it happens. You know a crash is coming and all you have to do is stand aside and wait. You know that people will divulge facts that shouldn’t be divulged, others will betray friends, and that mud will be slung from all sides. You know it won’t end without casualties. It never does.

The drama that I (in retrospect, willingly) entered into has taken prisoners. It has hurt people, it has hurt friendships, it has hurt feelings, all of which is wildly ironic since the entire reason for the drama was because I was hurt by someone else. The whole point was to stop the hurt, not redirect it.

I can tell you with great sincerity that the intentions of this drama were good. I realize that what it has become doesn’t necessarily possess the same purity, and for that, I am incredibly sorry. If I could’ve foreseen this I would’ve stopped in my tracks, I would’ve thrown a break and the whole disaster might have been prevented. I can only tell you this now, with hindsight, which is startlingly clear and painful.

All that I really want is to move on, to write a fluffy ridiculous blog post about my cat, but I feel like there are people expecting me to say more, to do more, to stand up somewhere and declare right from wrong.

I’m not going to do that.

I don’t think that anyone involved in this is without sin. No one is walking away without making a mistake somewhere along the line, and while some are more egregious than others, the bottom line is that there’s no place for me to cast stones, to shine praise down on anyone or to proclaim a winner or a loser. I am not the judge or jury, I’m an accomplice turned spectator who’s been trying to run out of the room and can’t seem to get away.

(This post has so many metaphors and cliches, it’s outright absurd.)

I can tell you that I’m done with this. I have no interest in further involvement, I’m walking away, in hopes that things will go back to a rough approximation of normal. I have been tiptoeing around the internet this week because I feel like I’ve created such a monster that I don’t know where I belong anymore. I have hurt friends, I have hurt people I barely even know.

I feel like I’ve alienated many people, which is unfortunate and I feel like I have ignited others, which will likely also end up being a bad thing.

If you’ll have me, I just want to get back to my normal affairs. I want to walk away from the drama that I didn’t see coming, that I didn’t ever want, and tell you about how two of my classmates have accidentally touched my ass this week, or how my husband got stuck working on the night shift again for a pregnant co-worker. I want to leave this in the past, with my apology as my final product of this mess. I can’t speak for anyone else and I won’t try to. I am washing my hands of this for good.

And all I have left to say is that I am genuinely sorry for my part in this mess and for the hurt it caused. I never imagined this would happen and I’m sorry it did.

It’s not a secret that for the past six months I’ve been dealing with criticism from people on the internet. It’s come exclusively in the form of anonymous accounts on twitter and anonymous commenters here, initially just one, now four or five. They have all been blocked, most have been asked, both politely and impolitely, to leave me alone. I have made it very clear that I want no part of it, but those requests have fallen on profoundly deaf ears.

I am entirely aware of the fact that I am imperfect. In fact, I’m probably the most aware of that. I’m not saying that I’m beyond criticism or that no one can disagree with me. Disagreement isn’t inherently bad. But there’s a line between disagreeing and harassing, between thinking I’m wrong and calling me names for it.

The advice I’ve been given over and over and over is to ignore these people. And it’s sound advice. But it’s not entirely realistic, at least not for me. There’s something incredibly challenging about knowing that someone is talking about you, mocking you, belittling you and being told not to notice or care. If you can manage this, you’re a bigger person than I am. Because I cannot. I cannot pretend like this isn’t happening, I cannot just buck the fuck up and turn a blind eye. That’s just not me.

And I realize that in that way, I have a part in my own misery.

I was bullied mercilessly in elementary school. Mostly because I was chubby, but also because, like now, I was obviously sensitive. Kids picked on me because they knew that their words had power. My mom once went to the principal of the school to discuss it. The principal told my mother, to her face, that I brought it on myself. And maybe like now I did, maybe I’m the one that causes people to see the target on my back, to see the buttons that are easy to push. I might bring this on myself by caring, I see that now.

But that doesn’t make it okay. That doesn’t make what happened then or what’s happening now acceptable.

I don’t like to throw around labels. It’s not as simple as saying that these people are bullies or trolls because just as one of them pointed out today, the same label could be thrown back at me. I’m not without sin, but what separates them from me is that I’ve never, in my life, set out to make someone feel bad. I’ve never plotted or even considered what I could say or do that would make another person feel bad. I’ve never had someone tell me to leave them alone and then completely ignore their pleas for peace.

I’ve never gone out of my way to tear another person down, not in real life, not on the internet.

One day last week, I got 3 new anonymous accounts following for the intent of mocking, all within a few hours of each other. I toyed with the idea of making my tweets private, as I have several times in the past, but ultimately decided not to for a couple of reasons. First, I don’t think it will actually help. I don’t know who is behind all of this, but I think they would probably find their way to my twitter stream even if I locked it up. And second and more importantly, I am not going to change for someone else, especially not for someone who doesn’t care about me.

I know I’ve said this before, and sadly, I suspect I’ll have to say it again, but if you don’t like me, please don’t read. There are plenty of people on the internet who write about things that I don’t like, or don’t care about. And so I don’t read them. It’s that simple. If you don’t like what I’m saying here, please, don’t read it. If my twitter account bothers you so much, don’t follow me, don’t seek it out, especially not after I’ve blocked you.

I wish I could tell you that after today, I’m going to stop reading these twitter accounts, that I’m going to turn a leaf and stop caring. But I’m not. I will always care, and I think that’s what makes me me. I am sensitive, and while I suspect it will only encourage people more, reading unkind things about myself will always hurt me. Hearing that I’m an asshole for being me, is difficult. Knowing that if I misspell a word, I’ll be crucified by someone who’s too chicken to sign their name to their words is a challenge.

I’m not asking for you to go out and scream to everyone about this, I never really wanted that. I want it to end, I want it to all stop, that’s always been my only goal. I want to feel like I can be me, be who I am, without having other adults try to tear me down for it.

And since that’s not possible, then I’m just going to move on as best I can. I’m not going to try to be what I’m not. I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t bother me, I’m not going to pretend like I’m perfect or refute all claims against me. I don’t have time for that, and I’m not here to lie to you. I’m just going to keep being me.

And if you don’t like that, then all I can really ask is that you leave me alone.

Your words have power, and I’m asking that right now, you consider how you use them. To consider whether what you’re doing is something you’re proud of. Or whether you’re hiding behind fake names because you know what you’re doing is wrong, because you know that if anyone actually knew that it was you, that you’d have to face a similar kind of scrutiny that you’ve forced me to face these past six months.

And I guess in a way I’m grateful for this experience, because it helped me to remember that I would rather be who I am, imperfect, whiny, an asshole and all the other names I have been called in the past 6 months, than a coward any day.

I have to be honest with you, I’m sort of stuck tonight. There are things I want to say, to write, to tell you. But I’m feeling stifled. I’m feeling closed off on my own blog.

It all started with a blog comment that I got earlier today. A part of me wants to believe that the person who left the comment was well intended. But then I read it and realize that, no. It’s not. It was intended to be unkind. And that bullshit baffles me. Who does that?

And as much as I want to let it go and walk away, there are things that need to be said. Because if people really believe what was said in that comment, there is much to clarify.

First, (and honestly, this is what bothers me the most), I have to address the insinuation that I think my pain is worse than everyone else’s. At no point have I ever said or, for what it’s worth, thought, that my pain is worse than anyone else’s. One of the things I struggle with the most is people in my life feeling guilty about complaining about their pain because of mine. I cannot stand when others feel like their pain isn’t real or isn’t serious because they compare it this headache. Because it is.

Pain is pain. I have nothing but sympathy and empathy for anyone in pain, whether it’s short or long term, whether it’s neurological or musculoskeletal. Pain, as a rule, blows. Mine is not special, it’s not unique and I hope that you realize that I know that.

Next, I guess I haven’t done a good job of explaining the way my life works. You see, I’ve had a headache everyday for 6 months. Sometimes the pain still surprises me, but I have learned to cope with a lot of it. It is still crappy and hard to deal with, but to say that I shouldn’t travel because of it, or go on vacations because I’m in pain is insane.

And yes, the past few weeks have been a clusterfuck of health issues. And if you think that they were not considered when I decided to go to New Orleans this weekend, you are mistaken. I wouldn’t be going if my doctors or my husband (who incidentally, IS a doctor) or I thought it was unsafe. I whine a lot, but I’m not stupid.

I realize that I have spent a lot of time discussing school lately, because it is a great stress in my life, just as it was last semester. And if you’ll recall, with a great deal of effort (AND with a trip to New Orleans in there too…), I passed all my classes. In fact, I did better than a very significant portion of my classmates. Not because I’m anything special, but because I worked hard. Just like I am now. Just like I will for the next 2.5 years.

I appreciate the concern, but I am not in danger of being kicked out of my program. And dude, I absolutely know that I’m in over my head. That’s pretty much the story of my life. But anyway, yes, my school makes a lot of accommodations for me, but I’m also in a graduate program for health professionals. It’s a graduate program taught exclusively by people who work with patients with disease and disability. I’m not a traditional student, but so far, I’m still a successful one.

And knowing how much I have ahead of me, knowing that I have a lot to catch up on, I’ve already informed my husband and my friends who I’m staying with that a great deal of this weekend will be spent indoors, studying. I very much want to pass all of my classes, and if I thought that this weekend away would prevent that from happening, I wouldn’t be going. It goes back to that whole not stupid thing.

If you really think that I’m making mistakes or that I need to consider something, there is a time, a place and a manner. Leaving snarky comments where you mock my pain doesn’t fit any of those. Same thing with twitter accounts that are used solely to mock someone for living their life and sharing bits of it with others.

The vast majority of people who stop here and leave comments or send emails are encouraging, supportive and helpful. And so it’s especially unfortunate that the echos of those who are not tend to reverberate the loudest. Perhaps eventually I’ll learn to drown out the ugly, but for now, I just wish that we could all grow up and treat each other well.

And until then, I guess there will be more days like today. More ugliness and more explaining. More days where I wonder if it’s even worth it to continue writing. When I consider walking away for good.

This morning I got an email alert about a new comment on my Be Okay post. The comment said:

“Being sick doesn’t give you permission to act like a horse’s ass!”

My first reaction was annoyance, because I do not understand blog trolls. Seriously. Just don’t get it.

My second reaction was humor, because dude, horse’s ass? Why not jackass? Or just ass?

And my third reaction was sadness, because this woman, who, to her credit left her name and email address, is an example of why it’s hard to have a chronic illness. People simply do not understand and some don’t even try.

I don’t think that I’m allowed anymore leeway of being an asshole (or horse’s ass) because I’m in pain. I don’t think that I’m more interesting or more special or more anything than anyone else. I am human and if I’m being an ass it’s got nothing to do with being unwell. Though pain has changed me in ways I hate and cannot even begin to articulate, I will not hide behind my illness. I will not blame the way I act on pain.

People like Tammy simply don’t get why these comments are hard to take. I know it’s just one person in the mix of 14 nice comments, but comments like those are harsh. Because even though I don’t blame my actions on pain, my life is changed by it.

No matter how much I try, I have to flake on friends all the time. Tonight I’m missing out on the Nike Human Race, which TONS of my friends are participating in. Tomorrow morning I’m backing out of a volunteer opportunity that I had been looking forward to and which even more friends will be at. The only thing I can even hope to do this weekend is attend the football game and if I hadn’t already paid for the tickets, I’d probably not go (because I know I shouldn’t).

I have friends, but after a while, most of them will fade. You can only flake on friends so many times before they stop inviting you. You can only whine to friends so much before they stop asking how you’re doing.

I live my life in pain, but seeing how it has changed my life is worse than any physical feeling could ever be. There is not a day I don’t wish I could go back to the person I was before these headaches began. Before we knew what was wrong. There isn’t a day I don’t wish that I was normal. That you could just call me an asshole and not think that it’s because I’m in pain (or that I think it’s okay because I’m in pain).

In the end, I’m doing the best that I can to still be me (even if it closely resembles a horse’s ass) in spite of my life, in spite of my pain. Pain has changed me more than I care to admit and I’m sorry if you don’t like the person I am.

You aren’t the first one to feel that way and you won’t be the last.

But that’s my burden to bear.

And yours is to read someone else’s blog.

As much as I like to pretend like I have thick skin and that I can brush off jokes here and there, I don’t and I can’t. Not even a little bit.

Sometimes I know that someone doesn’t mean to be mean or harsh, but it hurts just as much. Sometimes I know that things are said with sarcasm, but I can’t let them go.

On Tuesday, after the lumbar puncture, I posted this on facebook:

Guess what hurts more than a needle into your lumbar spine? Five of them. My ability to complicate all medical situations knows no bounds.

It was meant to be snarky and a little whiny. But dudes, I was in a crap load of pain.

Later that day, my email made the “bing” noise, alerting me of an incoming message. And what I read, hurt me. I tried not to let it, but it did. My Godmother had responded to my status with the following message:

you just can’t resist being the center of attention, can you?

I know that what I wrote was whiny, but really?

Do people think that I actually had the doctor re-insert the needle 4 extra times because I needed the attention? That I botched my own LP for attention? That I’m enjoying this in some way?

I am miserable. I am scared. I am tired.

I was so happy to have news, to have a start at a potential diagnosis. But I feel like the wind has been taken completely out of my sails. And not just by the spinal headache, but people. People who make it known that they don’t want to hear about it. That they don’t care. That they think I should let it go and move on.

I would love to “move on.” I would love to stop whining. I would love to be normal. I would love a lot of things.

But I was dealt this life. I didn’t choose it.

If my choices are to fight this alone or give up and be surrounded by “friends,” then I guess I’ll be lonely.

I can do this alone if that’s the only way, but I really don’t want to.

Today marks 4 weeks since my head started hurting. Which is 29 days (because I’m counting today, no, I don’t suck that much at math) of my life, completely drowned with pain. I feel helpless, my friends and family feel helpless. And really? We are.

I will tell you all about the emergency room visit soon, but I need some time to not be so bitter about it before I can write it. If I tried, I’m pretty sure every sentence would be peppered with profanity and I’m trying to cut back on that shit.

I haven’t been sharing my headache issues with my classmates and I’m hesitant to talk about it with most people in real life, because one of the biggest problems I face, or at least feel like I face, is people not believing me. Yes, I understand that 29 days of headaches is outside the norm. I really do. But that doesn’t mean it’s untrue.

At the emergency room, one of the doctors asked me about the headaches. When I told him how long it had been since I hadn’t been in pain, he did a double take. And then he got that look. The one that says, I doubt it. That look that makes me want to scream.

He went so far as to tell me that he’d never usually do a CT scan on a person who looked as good as I did, but since I was there, he may as well. I’m sorry I don’t wear my pain more obviously. Really. I’ll try to look shittier worse from now on so I’ll get better medical care. Clearly my appearance is the BEST indicator of the way I feel.

And over the past four weeks, I’ve gotten several really delightfully special emails from people who used to read here, or used to follow me on twitter, letting me know that they were “done listening to the whining” and were calling it quits. One even asked me if my pain was so bad, why was I still out doing various things that I was tweeting about. (The answer to that, by the way, is because sitting in my bedroom all the time isn’t helping either. FYI)

Look, I get that reading here and following me on twitter right now is not a picnic. Hell, it’s often not even interesting (but beware, I have several non-health posts headed your way…theoretically), but if you want to stop reading here or stop following me on twitter, DO IT. However, you do NOT need to tell me that you’re doing it or why you’re doing it. You especially don’t need to make me feel bad about not entertaining you enough. I already feel all kinds of bad about being Debbie Downer all the damn time. It’s even less fun from this end.

I’ve lost 30 twitter followers in the last week. Whether this is the result of complaints or just people falling out of like with my (profound lack of) wittiness, I don’t know. I can’t know and frankly, I don’t want to know. But it makes a small part of me angry and sad. At this time when I need the most people to support and distract me, I seem to be losing the most.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. It’s been 29 days since my head hasn’t hurt and I’m not coping well.

I miss me more than any of you do and I find my whining difficult too. Trust me. I’m trying.

It seems as if there’s a rule written somewhere that the internet can only go so long without kicking you while you’re down. And by the internet, I mean some anonymous asshole leaving a totally unnecessary comment. Because they’re attention whores. Well, listen up attention whore, I’m talking to you.

Specifically to attention whore who left this message at 8:12 this morning:

“your blog would be far more interesting if you would whine less.”

First, my blog would be far more interesting if I didn’t have to review the guidelines of human decency, but that’s neither here not there, since I’m going to do it anyways.

What I find, first, most ironic, is that you chose to leave that comment on a 3 word blog. 3 words. Now, I seriously considered sitting down and writing out a 30 paragraph monologue (I guess they’re all monologues, whatever) about the number of things that had gone shittily that day. BUT, ironically, I decided not to, because (gasp) I didn’t want to whine.

And yet, there you were anyways.

What you seem to be missing is that this is MY blog. You choose to read here. I have the freedom to write whatever I want in my personal space, but you do NOT have the right to shit on my comments. Understand?

And what did you think would happen? I’d read your comment and be like, oh my God, that chicken shit anonymous commenter is right! I should whine less, and then my blog, which is the center of my universe, would be more interesting! The key, I’ve found it!

Um, yea. Instead, I’m guessing you thought it would go something like this, I’ll not even leave my name, because I’m chicken shit and say whatever I want, with no regards for what anyone else feels because I’m a giant asshole.

Yea, I thought so.

Now listen carefully, because I think you’ll find this VERY helpful. If you look at the top of your screen, on the right hand top corner for a PC or the left hand corner for a Mac, you’ll see a red x. This red x does something MAGICAL. It closes the screen.

If you don’t like my blog, if it’s not interesting to you, then STOP READING. I don’t need you to tell me that you’re going to stop, I’m totally at peace with it. The internet is a HUGE place and there are plenty of blogs for you to troll read. Please, go visit one of them.

Or, if you’d like to talk like adults instead of like catty 14 year olds, you could leave your name. You could hold yourself accountable to human decency and not be an asshole. By leaving out your name, you’re as good as saying, I know what I’m saying is wrong, but I’m going to say it anyways, and this way no one can come to my blog/send me an email and be an asshole back. Grow up. Face the consequences of your actions. Or go away.

While I appreciate your constructive criticism, I don’t need it. Yesterday was a really shitty day. I am stuck in a job that I can’t stand, I had a gynecologist appointment where my gynecologist confirmed one of my bigger fears in life, I got into a stupid argument with my husband, I spent 3 hours at a physics lab that was so poorly put together that I literally had to explain it to the professor, and oh, right, I did it on 3 hours of sleep with horribly unpleasant paresthesias in my hands all day.

If I want to whine about my day, I will. I come here to talk about what’s going on with me. If that means I’ll forever have a small blog with a few loyal readers, then rock on, because I don’t aspire to fame. I aspire to be content with myself and to share my life with people who are interested in it, which you’ve made abundantly clear, isn’t you.

You don’t think I’m interesting when I whine? News flash: I don’t think you’re interesting when you’re an asshole.

I guess we just need to go our separate ways. Go find yourself some attention somewhere else, I’m done with you.

I got my first hate comment and I wanted to address it head-on, because, who doesn’t like to stir the pot a little? (by the way, if you’d like to see what I’m responding to, head down to my post about the email and check out the comment).

First, lovely anonymous, you must not know me well. Or if you do, you just don’t pay attention. I am a teacher, I have a degree from a VERY good college (I even received high honors on my thesis) and for the record, I worked my ass off for it. So your tip about school being hard work? Totally unnecessary. In fact, I could probably teach you a thing or two about hard work. Second, you seriously need to re-examine your sense of humor, or better yet, see if you can pull it out of your ass, along with whatever pole/stick/object you have lodged in it. Because if you knew me, you’d realize that I study like crazy, so calling people “dorks” is, how do you say that again? Oh yes, a JOKE.

You were correct about one thing, I am calling this professor’s rules worthless and stupid, and do you know why? BECAUSE THEY ARE. You’re right that I don’t get passing grades, but that may have had something to do with the fact that I didn’t get to finish my quiz, because, and I’m guessing you’re also not a professor of math, if I had answered those 2 questions correctly, which I’m going to smugly assume I would, I would’ve passed the quiz. Pretty ironic that if the professor that allowed me to finish the quiz, that I did not break any rules taking (FOR THE RECORD), I would’ve passed. Hmmmm. Now, perhaps we should re-examine your claim. I didn’t pass because I didn’t like the rules? Weird. It seems like I didn’t pass because I didn’t get to finish it. Iiiiiiinteresting.

Yes, I disagree with my professor’s policies, but I follow them. I did not cheat, I did not break her rules, I just disagreed with them, and I sent her an email regarding that (and it was a rather polite email). Every change that has been made in history is the result of someone challenging a rule that they feel to be unjust. I’m not going to pretend like I’m some great knight fighting for a supremely important cause, but you know what? I am allowed to disagree with someone. And you’re allowed to disagree with me, which is why I’m not taking your comment down.

That said, I think it’s a little cheap to write a comment like that and not leave a name. I said a few posts ago that anonymous comments were okay, what I meant was that you didn’t need a blogger account, you could just sign your name at the bottom of the comment. But then again, when you write something unnecessarily mean to someone you don’t even know, I’m guessing that you don’t so much want to sign it, huh?

And for the record, the correct grammatical structure is 2 spaces after a period, regardless of whether you’re using a typewriter or the most amazing computer in the universe. That’s something I learned at school. Where I studied. If your word processor double spaces for you, fantastic, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t supposed to double space when typing in a program that doesn’t do it for you. It just means you’re lazy.

And P.S. to your P.S. If you feel a need to come to someone’s private blog, leave an unsigned comment, maybe YOU’re the one who needs to work on communication. Because to me, you’re just a big, fat chicken. If you’d like to continue this elsewhere, my email address is: overflowingbrain@gmail.com and I’d love to talk it over with you somewhere else. Don’t trash my blog.

And a note to all readers. If you disagree with me, or don’t like me, or better yet, just want to be unkind, how’s about you just stop reading? I’d love you to be here, I really would but if you disagree with me so much that you need to be nasty to me, I’m pretty sure that this isn’t the place for you and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to waste my time dealing with you. I don’t like to be mean, but I will not stand aside while you belittle me. I am not a child, I am not an idiot and no one is forcing you to read. Please stay if you’re happy reading, please leave me alone if you’re not.