I spend my life in Perpetual Panic Mode.
My sufferance of PPM stems from a combination of various factors including, but not limited to, introversion, anxiety, depression, mood swings, being an introvert and a social-phobic, and worrying about everything.
I also truly value my privacy and space, and this follows through from my living-breathing ‘reality’ to my online presence. Until recently my online presence was always the rather nice katiefinger. Dim, but nice. Nobody in my living-breathing ‘reality’ is aware of katiefinger [well, maybe about three people] and that’s the way I like it. Katiefinger has nothing to prove, nobody to impress and she can be all mouth without pondering how others will react to that.
I actually think you’re quite lucky if you’re a constant reader, because you really know me. Other people really know me, but you really know me.
Without really knowing me.
I can wear my heart on my sleeve, regale you with anecdotes about my past and grumble about life on here in a way that I can’t really do in my living-breathing ‘reality’, except with TBB, The Blokey and Mumsy.
But at the same time, you don’t really know me. I get my space and my privacy, but I also have the opportunity to be extroverted and mouthy in a way that my living-breathing ‘reality’ doesn’t allow.
That’s a really big thing for me; it’s a very positive aspect which is sometimes able to spill over into my living-breathing ‘reality’.
And then Facebook came along, with a gadget for this and a gizmo for that. My profile is as private as I can make it without negating the need for a profile [and I’m a techno-corporate-whore, so of course I want a Facebook profile!]. I’m on Facebook in my maiden name, there are no contact details and even if there were my profile is only available to be seen by friends. And of course, I get to decide if I want to be friends with someone.
So, bearing all the above in mind, you can imagine my horror when I discovered a friend request from The Father loitering around waiting for me to confirm or reject … I suppose it also helps to know that my relationship with The Father is rather hit-and-miss and I really struggle with my feelings towards him. Did I get those overwhelming feelings of panic flutter in my chest? Oh yes. Do I want him to toilet paper me, or send me fish, or dance with me? Not particularly. I’m not even sure that I want him to be able to write messages on my wall or see the causes that I support!
I’m a meanie. They were The Blokey’s words [I don’t know how old he thinks we are, or what playground we’re playing in!]. So I mulled it over, concentrated on the issue really hard, thought that it would cause problems if I had my NotSoUglyStepSister and not The Father, and decided that he could be my friend with access only to my limited profile.
And now I’m just laughing at myself [so you don’t have to] and wondering why I let such a ridiculous situation panic me to such an extent that I spent an entire evening worrying about it. It’s Facebook for goshness sake, not a life or death situation.
What am I like?
please God bless my PPM silliness xxx Elsabeth