Poor Me!

There is an interesting line between talking about our pain and sitting in self pity.

In a recent conversation, I heard the myriad of writings on social media described as self-indulgent, no doubt with a thinly veiled perception of mine too. And it made me stop and consider the line between sharing our pain and wallowing in self pity.

I do think it is easy to receive validation for speaking about our traumas that can lead to a seemingly endless dialogue on the subject which, in turn, can potentially trap the protagonist in a space of, not only excessive over sharing, but also a stasis rather than a moving through. It is dangerous territory but overall I believe there is more benefit than harm not just for the writer but also for society as a whole.

I can only speak for myself, but had social media been available to me twenty something years ago, I think I would have been made aware of my patterns and trauma behaviours much more quickly, and would have had the opportunity to seek the support and help to avoid continuous repetitions of damaging cycles.

By recognising myself in other people’s stories, I have seen, and continue to see, where events from my past have created wired responses that keep me stuck in harmful dynamics. How I choose to act on that information is my own journey of healing and will, but the ‘ah ha’ moments of self-awareness at least afford me the chance to do so.

Thus I am grateful for the courage of those that speak about the painful moments of life, the shame, the fears and the road blocks that inhibit moving beyond the chains of our past.

And there is the other side to this coin, the therapeutic value of speaking aloud the monstrous agonies of life. I read an article just this week that explored the neurology of trauma and the results shown on brain scans when we verbalise our internal sufferings. Not the dancing around metaphors but the blunt and unadorned confessions of feelings - pain, anger, shame, fear. Announcing them externally literally transforms the synapses and moves from trauma to healing.

The only problem? Our society does not welcome such candid conversation. It is too easily labelled as self-pity, wallowing, self-indulgent etc and we are actively encouraged to either totally suppress or, at the very least, couch our commentary into phrases that are more palatable and less confronting.

I rarely, if ever, feel pity for myself. I don’t prostrate myself at the altar of ‘poor me’. I fully accept that my experiences have purpose and are part of the rich and complex tapestry of my life and of our culture as a whole, but I equally know part of the way that I process is to speak it out into the world. It is what helps me find that purpose, move through the feelings du jour and support others on a similar trajectory.

However, I can at times feel self conscious about that perception. I am the only person who knows my intention and my energy when I put my thoughts out into the ether and there have been numerous occasions when I have received feedback with an interpretation that has left me bamboozled. That my story has been read in a potentially opposing manner or given malicious sense where there was none, can jar and make me question my own objective. And I’m cognisant that I cannot control anyone else’s lens; they will see what they want to see.

Overall, I think it would be beneficial if our culture reconsidered how we welcome such confabulation. More robust societies have rituals for the expression of pain, circles of holding, transformatory initiations and the like. There is far less shame, less dampening of the emotions, even the overt wailing grief at death is so much healthier - a somatic release.

So can the Instagram and Substack tales feel self-indulgent? Likely more dependent on how you process your own feelings. Do you allow yourself to express openly and frankly or do you need to ensure they are perfectly curated before release, if at all?

My stories free my pain from the confines of my swirling thoughts, reduce rocketing cortisol and release the energy from staying locked within, and detrimental to, my cells and organs. If that is perceived as self indulgent, so be it, I’d rather that than an inner implosion that irreparably destroys my health or, worse, my life. And if my pain is recognised by others to help them process their own, then I’ll take that over the judgements of a society that displays constant emotional erosion.

So bring on the social media over sharing and let’s hope the permission it creates draws our humanity back into a balance of acceptance & grace, and from this the release and healing that affords.