I’m a liar.
Not a Donald-Trump-Say-Stupid-Outrageous-Shit type of liar. More like a Hilary-(Or Bill take your pick)-Clinton-Lie-By-Omission type of liar.
If I was The Donald, I’d publish post after post telling everyone how fabulously healthy I am. Instead, I just hide my cane in photos and stay mum on all the details surrounding my MS. You have to actually see me in person or ask me directly to know about my situation. Otherwise when you ask me how I am I will instead tell you about my kids and then quickly change the subject and ask you about your kids, your spouse, your job, your bunions, or whatever else I can think of.
Ever since my diagnosis back in 2009 I began blogging much less (eventually stopping all together in 2011) and turned to Facebook as a way to stay connected and to express myself. The problem is, no one likes a Debbie Downer that’s always whining about their problems and when it comes to my writing I’ve learned that I have only one talent which is to write about how I’m feeling, in real time. I’m not really a writer as much as a communicator using graphic rather than verbal expression and I don’t think my writing would be all that interesting if I’m only talking about my crappy health and shitty attitude.
At least Facebook lets you post about your kids after sharing a recipe and a funny video and give your friends and family the illusion that your life is maybe not awesome, but within the realm of normal. But its getting harder and harder to play along.
Harder to share. Harder to care.