Through concentrating on polite blog etiquette, my spoken language changed, the edits which took place on digital paper, started to take place in my mind. I grew more familiar with the rules.
When I was sixteen, I kept a blog; it was full of inappropriate and nonsensical language. My dad was living abroad and I didn’t live at home, so he wanted to know how I was. He read my blog. He told me that I should change it as not to be judged by the use of swear words and the controversial opinions I had. I did. I deleted everything and started again. I didn’t understand why but I knew he was right. I knew that if what I had written wasn’t wrong, he wouldn’t have told me it was. I felt like I had disappointed my parents by using what I presumed to be normal teenage speech, in writing.
My teenage self, copied everyone else.
She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know who she was, or how to be.
She watched people, she listened, she mimicked.
As an adult, I appreciate my parent’s interventions with regards to my digital self because although at times, I regretted deleting or sharing various things, I learned from each and every experience. I became more articulate. I was able to edit my thoughts once I’d typed them up. I don’t post passive aggressive status updates or tweets; I don’t share things that may trigger others. I think about every time I’ve seen something and wondered if it was about me. I think about every time I’ve taken something literally. I’ve learned to control my emotions to a certain extent but every now and again, I snap. I’ll read something and react. I’ll hear something and react. I’ll be overwhelmed and react.
I haven’t posted anything for a while as my schedule has been a chaotic combination of university, work, university and work, with sleep thrown in there for good measure. I haven’t been able to function properly. I can’t take care of myself properly. I don’t have a routine. Changes are happening so quickly that I can’t process the information I’m being given.
My ability to transition between one thing and another is substandard.
She feels like a defective robot.
She's always felt like a defective robot.