They say life gives you what you need; not always what you want.
'They' also say that you can't control the cards you're dealt; just how you play the hand.
Life's a deck of cards and at that precise point in time it pulled the ultimate ace: this space I called my own for nearly 15 years was suddenly ripped away from me.
I've shared my life online for a third of my life; willingly and cathartically. In hindsight, perhaps carelessly.
My children would be recognised in the elevator of our daycare. My husband would be approached at the supermarket. It was all harmless and lovely, but our anonymity was the cost of sharing so much of myself to tens of thousands of people we had never met.
As humans, we share a fundamental need to interact and feel connected with others.
Getting 'hacked' destroyed all that for me. I was locked out and I lost complete control. Someone was making money by pretending to be me. It's a bit like getting your house robbed, getting the keys stolen, and not being able to change the locks. Every day after that you're living in irrational fear they'd come back any day at any time.
In three weeks it happened twice.
I was angry at myself for letting it happen. If only I didn't click on that link. I grieved the loss of the community that supported me through the life changing lows and hallucinating highs. I was incredibly sad. Lonely. I felt betrayed by the space that I thought had my back.
But I also began to feel the full force of the word 'hope': how much of it we need, as humans, to get up in the morning and put one foot in front of the other.
There were some nights I tried to convince myself that maybe it was easier to fall asleep and not wake up the next morning. Scrolling socials was my daily dopamine hit and the sudden withdrawal made me feel physically ill.
But alas: you've got to feel it to heal it.
And as the fog started to lift, and hope began to trickle in, it occurred to me that maybe life was putting up a sign post.
I can't say this enough: being off all my socials has been therapy in itself. Ionically, being locked out of my accounts has actually freed me.
I was gifted with a chance to focus on Real Life: I channelled my energy into forging IRL friendships offline. I no longer had Instagram as an excuse to (think I knew) what was going on in my friends' lives. So the how-have-you-beens and the whats-been-going-ons -- I began to mean every single word. I also didn't have a need to impress anyone IRL or otherwise. Do you know how good that actually feels?
I'm beginning to realise this space we're all contributing to (because let's be real here: it's the not the platform's fault; it's ours) is no longer serving me.
Whether we admit it or not, social media has become a popularity contest where our worth is overquantified through likes, shares, comments, and how many hearts our posts get.
It's become so easy on here to feel like you're missing out or just not good enough, rich enough, or that your waist isn't snatched enough.
But what if I told you this: that designer bag was bought on Afterpay. The six star hotel stay was gifted. The expensive pram was a hand me down. The shiny new car was borrowed.
We know nothing about other people's lives, yet we're convinced that we need to keep up.
And I'm starting to ask myself what my role is in this and am I okay with perpetuating it?
Socials have become a place for most of us to broadcast rather than communicate. We've become a sloppy bunch of people relying on Facebook to tell us when someone's birthday is. Ads that keep these platforms alive are selling us stuff we don't need. Algorithms are manipulating us to consume content in ways they want us to. We're being told what to eat, how to lift a barbell, how to parent and how to fucking dress.
It all feels disingenuous, disturbingly fake and just too much. I only had to look in from the outside to realise it. I'm not sure I want to be a part of it anymore.
But I digress.
So long as I'm on here, I carry with me a lingering sense of anxiety, paranoia and vulnerability. I'm scared they will come back when I least expect it - any time, any which way. Because they've done it before and what's to stop them from doing it again? I'm on edge with every email I receive now because for the past month it's been "Someone has changed your password", "Your two factor authentication has been turned off", "We're sorry you're having trouble accessing your account", "We just wanted to check it was you that uploaded your ID", "Your account has been suspended", and the clincher: "Transfer $500 now and we'll stop hacking you."
I've been having dreams - nightmares - violent ones - where I'm either hurting myself or hurting someone I love. I'm dreaming about being suffocated - like I'm struggling to breathe - and I'll wake up feeling like someone's holding a pillow over my face and I can't get any air into my lungs. The ptsd and trauma makes me want to run far, far away from here. Well-meaning and caring friends tell me to get help but I'm buried deep. I'm stubbornly resolute that I can get through this myself.
As I slowly step away from this space in the hope that time and distance can heal me, one thing's for sure: life has dealt me the cards I never knew I needed.
Because these things are happening for me, not to me.
So I guess now it's up to me to play the hand.
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