There has been a lot in the news in the last week about an Instagram personality, Essena O'Neil that has started a movement that "Social Media is not real life." I read her blog and watched her video and I would like to share my thoughts on the topic. I had this conversation with a good friend of mine who is also extremely involved in social media and we had similar thoughts.
Essena talks at length in one specific post about what drove her to social media. She wanted what an older girl at her school had. She saw this girl that she idolized and she wanted attention, flattery and everything that came with that. Because of that, Essena worked hard to create a situation that wasn't reality. She talks about obsessively refreshing her page looking for the likes to go up. She talks about the money she was paid to promote products. What she doesn't talk about is a love for creating, or a drive to make content.
I spend a large portion of my time on various social media platforms. I work as a social media consultant for companies. I am a YouTuber and blogger. I connect with my friends through social media in my spare time. It is safe to say that I love social media, but let's back up to the beginning.
My parents held back social media from me for a long time. The only reason I was allowed to finally get a Facebook account is because my parents were sick of me begging to let me on their account so I could play Hedgehog Launch. Who I was friends with was approved by my parents. They saw everything I did on social media. They still do. I am 19 years old and my parents know of and can see any of my accounts at any time. I figure if it is something I wouldn't want my parents seeing, it doesn't belong on the internet for the world to see.
I started my YouTube channel 7 and a half years ago. My parents didn't know about it at the time. It wasn't that I was hiding it, they just didn't know what it was. I don't remember ever telling them about it, they just knew. I probably showed them a video and tried to explain it. Here is where I say the most cliche YouTuber thing ever, there was not even a way to make money on YouTube when I started.
I started making singing videos so I could send them to Ellen. Yes, that Ellen. I had seen Taylor Swift on her show and I wanted her to show Taylor my video. I loved Taylor then and that is something that hasn't changed to this day. One thing that has changed is the platform of YouTube.
We now have celebrities. I remember telling my friends about this "Tyler guy I've been watching online," and them thinking that was the dumbest thing ever. Okay, tell that to Tyler Oakley's Teen Choice Award.
I continued making videos for years. It wasn't until just over 2 years ago that I was even able to make money off of my videos. I made videos for 5 years 100% because I loved it.
I also never had a lot of subscribers. I have a wonderful community of caring, amazing people who support my music and videos which is all I could ever ask for. I have people that stop me at conventions because certain videos of mine have touched their life.
I started making videos because I loved it. I continue making videos because I love it. That's it.
I have had peers at social media conventions ask me why I haven't stopped making videos since my "viewership isn't high." One asked me what the point was. The point is that social media is a passion first, a job second.
I have never once equated my self worth to a number on a screen. Does it feel amazing when a lot of people watch and enjoy something I put out? Of course it does! Am I devastated when a video doesn't hit well? I can honestly say no.
There are problems with social media. I don't have blinders on. There are awful people that spread horrible hate. I delete it and hope that they are able to find happiness within themselves, because that is the real reason they are lashing out at me.
I think the biggest problem with social media are people like Essena that go into for the numbers. That is like becoming a doctor for the money. If you aren't doing it to help patients, at some point you are going to burn out. They say if you love what you do, you never work a day in your life. Well, I LOVE what I do and what I do happens to be social media.
No one likes a selfie I put on Instagram? Who cares, I was still killing it that day.
No new Tumblr followers for a week? Oh well, I reblogged a bunch of dogs that made me happy.
10% of my normal views on my newest cover? Big deal. I hit a high note that I worked on for a month and a half.
I could go on and on. Social media is a hobby and an amazing way to connect with people all over the world. Some of us have been lucky to get opportunities or jobs out of it. That was a happy accident for most of us.
"'Without realising, I've spent majority of my teenage life being addicted to social media, social approval, social status and my physical appearance. Social media, especially how I used it, isn't real,'"
This right here is where the problem is. This is what Essena equated social media with. Not self expression, not the freedom to create in a public space, not community. She equated it with numbers, physical looks, approval from complete strangers and money. This is what make it a toxic, unreal environment for her.
Social media is only fake if you are. When I post a video of me singing, that is my real, unedited voice. The only part that is "fake" is the lighting, because I normally film at night and people want to see your face in a video. When I post a photo on Instagram, it isn't edited to a point where it isn't recognizable. I add a few basic effects to make a generally shaky picture I took on my phone seem like I know what I am doing, but it's still me.
You get out what you put in. I put my real genuine self into social media, so that's what I get from others. I don't equate numbers to happiness, so I stay happy when the numbers aren't good. I'm not going to lie to you and say I never check my numbers, because we all do, but I check, give it a quick "Oh this video is doing (worse/better) than normal, hmm," and then I move on.
I know lots of people have lots of thoughts on social media and I would love to hear some of your thoughts in the comments. I typically stay out of "hot" topics, but as someone who has spent most of the last 8 years on social media and has made it a job, I had a lot to say about this specific one. This was in no way said to bash Essena. I 100% believe she made the healthy choice for her, I just don't think that all of us approach social media in the way she did.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Don't Take It For Granted | Health Updates
Hello everyone! I want to thank you all for the incredible feedback and love on my last post. If you haven't read it yet, this is it. It was a post on losing yourself and it was really important for me and a very therapeutic process to write it. Today I am back with another semi-serious post. A few months ago I talked about my long struggle with my health. I told you all about the history of what I had gone through and took you through the process of my most recent surgery. I never gave you all a final update on that surgery. Sadly, it wasn't successful.
As I talked about then, (which you can see in this post, this post and this post) they removed my left ovary, appendix and a massive amount of endometriosis. They also found a fibroid tumor that they didn't remove as it would have been a very long, very painful surgery to recover from. On top of that, I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and Hashimoto's, both of which you can look up if you want to learn more about them. There are also still unknown problems. My greatest problem is excruciating, chronic pain. It is something I deal with all day, every single day.
My doctors are at a bit of a place of not knowing exactly what to do to help. This is what landed me at a pain management doctor. I fought this for as long as I could because I didn't want to have to feel that my only hope was to manage the pain, but not fix it. The doctor suggested nerve block injections under sedation. It was the last thing in the world that I wanted to do. It involves 10 inch needles being put into my back and threaded through to the front to inject medicine that helps block the nerve that sends pain signals to the brain. I was told upfront that there was a chance it wouldn't work.
I took a month to think about it. In that month my pain got worse and worse. It is not an exaggeration to say that it was common for me not to leave my house for days. On the days I did leave it wasn't for long and almost always ended with me coming home crying in pain or coming frighteningly close to passing out from pain level. I knew I couldn't keep living this way, so I decided to agree to the injections.
It was scheduled bright and early for Friday, November 6th at a surgery center in my town. I was terrified. Unlike surgery, this wasn't something I knew what to expect for. I had done a lot of research and had found that for most people with cases and pain like mine, the injections hadn't helped at all. I strongly considered calling to cancel the day before but I knew that if by some chance this was the magic thing that would help control my pain, and I skipped it, I wouldn't be able to deal with it, so I went.
In the 24 hours before the procedure I had more anxiety attacks than I ever have. I have severe anxiety to begin with and it was so trigger by the fear of the procedure and the fear of it not working that I wasn't able to manage it. My parents helped me manage, but it was a rough day.
The next morning after less than 3 hours of sleep, I was off to the surgery center. My dad was working so it was just my mom and I. It was less than a 5 minute ride to the center. When we parked the car my anxiety hit again. "I'm not going in." I must have said that 10 times. It was always my choice if I wanted to have them done, but I felt like I didn't really have a choice. That was my doctors suggested next step and no one else had anything else to offer.
I finally went inside. I knew I had to. I checked in and then sat in the waiting room. They called my name and it was time to go back. They told me my mom couldn't come back with me. Now, I am normally a pretty chill person but I came very close to tears and told them that if she wasn't going back, I wasn't either. After a minute, they let us both come back. They did all of the preop stuff and I did my best to stay calm. The nurse was from California and was a Disney fan so that helped. She was really nice and kept talking to me about Disney to keep me calm.
There was a pretty long wait. Lots of people came in to talk to me and then it was time to go in. They brought me into the procedure room and had me switch to the table and lay face down. By this point I was crying and having an anxiety attack. I kept trying to tell someone but every time I moved my head to tell them, they told me not to move. I was supposed to be asleep for the procedure. I don't remember this part, but the doctor told my mom. They gave me the medicine to sedate me and I began thrashing around. I almost fell off of the table. They thought I was in danger so they backed off the sedation. I was then awake. I felt them put in the local anesthetic. They then kept pushing Fentanyl but I was wide awake.
No one ever bothered to tell me what was going on or to explain why I was awake and could feel everything they were doing. I kept crying. They kept telling me not to move. Then it was over and they had me roll back onto the other bed so they could wheel me out. They gave me a bottle of water and some crackers and told me that my doctor would be here soon. My abdominal pain was still as bad but I was hoping it could take a few days to kick in. After about 20 minutes my doctor came in. She asked me if the pain felt any different. I said it didn't and asked if it should feel different already. She told me yes, but that it could take up to an hour. They brought my mom in and told me I could go home. I went home and had to accept that it didn't work. Again. I gave it another hour. It still didn't work.
Fast forward 2 days and here I am writing this. Unfortunately I now know for sure that it didn't work. It made my back hurt a lot and I am still recovering from that, but it should go away soon. I'm sad, but I am not giving up. I am planning on setting up a doctors appointment to talk about more drastic steps that we could take, including a hysterectomy. I am at a point where I really want my life back, even if that means a big step like that.
Do I wish it had worked? Yes. Do I still have hope that someday, something will? Yes. In medicine it is never over, I just have to wait until we find the right thing.
As I talked about then, (which you can see in this post, this post and this post) they removed my left ovary, appendix and a massive amount of endometriosis. They also found a fibroid tumor that they didn't remove as it would have been a very long, very painful surgery to recover from. On top of that, I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and Hashimoto's, both of which you can look up if you want to learn more about them. There are also still unknown problems. My greatest problem is excruciating, chronic pain. It is something I deal with all day, every single day.
My doctors are at a bit of a place of not knowing exactly what to do to help. This is what landed me at a pain management doctor. I fought this for as long as I could because I didn't want to have to feel that my only hope was to manage the pain, but not fix it. The doctor suggested nerve block injections under sedation. It was the last thing in the world that I wanted to do. It involves 10 inch needles being put into my back and threaded through to the front to inject medicine that helps block the nerve that sends pain signals to the brain. I was told upfront that there was a chance it wouldn't work.
I took a month to think about it. In that month my pain got worse and worse. It is not an exaggeration to say that it was common for me not to leave my house for days. On the days I did leave it wasn't for long and almost always ended with me coming home crying in pain or coming frighteningly close to passing out from pain level. I knew I couldn't keep living this way, so I decided to agree to the injections.
It was scheduled bright and early for Friday, November 6th at a surgery center in my town. I was terrified. Unlike surgery, this wasn't something I knew what to expect for. I had done a lot of research and had found that for most people with cases and pain like mine, the injections hadn't helped at all. I strongly considered calling to cancel the day before but I knew that if by some chance this was the magic thing that would help control my pain, and I skipped it, I wouldn't be able to deal with it, so I went.
In the 24 hours before the procedure I had more anxiety attacks than I ever have. I have severe anxiety to begin with and it was so trigger by the fear of the procedure and the fear of it not working that I wasn't able to manage it. My parents helped me manage, but it was a rough day.
The next morning after less than 3 hours of sleep, I was off to the surgery center. My dad was working so it was just my mom and I. It was less than a 5 minute ride to the center. When we parked the car my anxiety hit again. "I'm not going in." I must have said that 10 times. It was always my choice if I wanted to have them done, but I felt like I didn't really have a choice. That was my doctors suggested next step and no one else had anything else to offer.
I finally went inside. I knew I had to. I checked in and then sat in the waiting room. They called my name and it was time to go back. They told me my mom couldn't come back with me. Now, I am normally a pretty chill person but I came very close to tears and told them that if she wasn't going back, I wasn't either. After a minute, they let us both come back. They did all of the preop stuff and I did my best to stay calm. The nurse was from California and was a Disney fan so that helped. She was really nice and kept talking to me about Disney to keep me calm.
There was a pretty long wait. Lots of people came in to talk to me and then it was time to go in. They brought me into the procedure room and had me switch to the table and lay face down. By this point I was crying and having an anxiety attack. I kept trying to tell someone but every time I moved my head to tell them, they told me not to move. I was supposed to be asleep for the procedure. I don't remember this part, but the doctor told my mom. They gave me the medicine to sedate me and I began thrashing around. I almost fell off of the table. They thought I was in danger so they backed off the sedation. I was then awake. I felt them put in the local anesthetic. They then kept pushing Fentanyl but I was wide awake.
No one ever bothered to tell me what was going on or to explain why I was awake and could feel everything they were doing. I kept crying. They kept telling me not to move. Then it was over and they had me roll back onto the other bed so they could wheel me out. They gave me a bottle of water and some crackers and told me that my doctor would be here soon. My abdominal pain was still as bad but I was hoping it could take a few days to kick in. After about 20 minutes my doctor came in. She asked me if the pain felt any different. I said it didn't and asked if it should feel different already. She told me yes, but that it could take up to an hour. They brought my mom in and told me I could go home. I went home and had to accept that it didn't work. Again. I gave it another hour. It still didn't work.
Fast forward 2 days and here I am writing this. Unfortunately I now know for sure that it didn't work. It made my back hurt a lot and I am still recovering from that, but it should go away soon. I'm sad, but I am not giving up. I am planning on setting up a doctors appointment to talk about more drastic steps that we could take, including a hysterectomy. I am at a point where I really want my life back, even if that means a big step like that.
Do I wish it had worked? Yes. Do I still have hope that someday, something will? Yes. In medicine it is never over, I just have to wait until we find the right thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
