Making A Difference

When I was a teenager, my dad was a Bishop for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. During that time, people from our ward (congregation) were always telling me how lucky I was to have him as my dad. Or how much they loved my dad, and how he had helped them with something in their life. I was already a daddy's girl, so I just nodded in agreement. I already knew that! I knew he was making a difference for so many people. Even now, over 20 years later, I occasionally hear from someone how much he helped, or how he was their favorite bishop, or how they love my Daddy.


On another note, I have always been a pretty shy/reserved person. It has taken a lot of work for me to even smile at strangers, or say "hi" if I see someone I know. So, I have always kind of been the person people forget about, or don't think to invite. Not to be dramatic, but it's true. I've seen it so many times throughout my life. Maybe it's more than just my quietness that makes me forgettable. I often feel like it's because I'm unlikeable.


Let me tie these two things together...…


I remember one night in particular, when I found out about a get-together after it had ended. People I thought were good friends had left me out, and I was very disheartened. I cried to my parents about how I wanted to make a difference, and how I wanted to be seen, remembered, included. My dad tried to show sympathy. He told me that he felt that way, too. He told me everybody feels forgotten at times. Through my sobs, I said something about how he had to know that he was helping people, because even I heard about it all the time. Years later, I'm realizing that even the outgoing, loveable people sometimes feel forgotten.


In my attempts to "make a difference" I have shared a lot about my struggles with depression, anxiety, a bipolar diagnosis, and now questioning that diagnosis. I have had 3 different blogs (1 private, one pre divorce, one post-divorce) to share what I experience daily, the ups and downs, and the beauty of one thing that has always been life-saving for me, my children.


There have been so many positives; people thanking me for helping them understand a loved one with similar struggles, or help them put words to their own feelings. When I did a presentation in college, I was approached by many students and even the teacher with stories of their own, or statements of gratitude.


On the flip side, I have been accused of selfishness, lying, exaggerating, or attention-seeking. I've been told it's "not that bad" or to "suck it up" "think happy" or "get over it". Some say I am sharing too much. I have had some unfriend or unfollow me on social media because they can't stand it. A couple have even screamed at me, or completely cut me out of their life. One person said I was depressing and it was too dark.


After years of blogging and sharing, I feel lost. Like I've already shared my story, and nobody wants or needs to hear it anymore. Like the stories of other friends are more important now. It's like my time in the proverbial spotlight has come and gone, so I should get used to the dark. You may think this is just the voice of depression. Maybe you'd be right, but now that my blogs no longer have views or comments, I can't see any other reason. I have been trying for months to understand this feeling, to put my racing thoughts into something others can understand. So, there it is.... my most recent pains and feelings.