I deactivated Twitter.
No announcement I just did it. I joined Twitter in 2009 after attending a Webinar with the librarian I worked for at the time. I learned about hashtags, how using social media can drive library engagement. Over 10 years, including a small dust up with a Winnipeg-famous figure and his fans, I decided to wash my hands of it. My mental health will thank me.
Last week, I was sick and that presented an interesting challenge while working from home. What is the protocol for calling in sick? Can you call in sick? People still get colds and though, since they’re at home, they can still work. Breathing means energy and last week breathing wasn’t happening very much, along with temperature fluctuations, massive sinus headaches, and a COVID questionnaire that was borderline about diagnosis.
I decided to eliminate the major suspect-COVID. Already up before dawn, I dressed and drove to Assiniboine Downs. The racetrack (with a great buffet I heard) converted into a testing site. I got there at opening, got the swab shoved up my nose, eyes watering, then out. The whole thing took 13 minutes. I got a text the next day, an encouraging sign, and saw the word ‘Negative’ when I logged into my Shared Health account. (The same account will help me when the time comes to vaccinate.) In the end, it was an asthma flare up thanks the melt, with an old-fashioned cold.
What helped more than inhalers and nasal sprays was rest. I slept and reflected. I saw too many peppy posts about the anniversary of pandemic, the rah-rah about pivoting services and resiliency. People forget to get to resiliency, to ‘get together,’ you have to fall apart. I only look put together.
I am still hurting.
I learned society doesn’t care if people are hurting. My provincial government keeps talking about restarting the economy, my premiere offers no words of comfort and thinks we are all one big hockey team. Dumping Twitter means to reclaim my mental space and turning 50 means I learned to not care what other people think and handle the consequences of speaking or even asking ‘why?’
Life is short.
I carve out my story out of it.