Fragile Blogger, Part 1
High Probability of Insecurity
April 3- June 6, 2015
I’ve got amazing ideas. The kind of stuff you, and everybody you know, have never thought of. And I know, you are smarter than all the other uncouth minions, and we belong to a secret abstract club, of the literary elite.
My friends used to understand me, but now they only want me to listen to them, and ‘their problems’; don’t even get me started about the kids. But you are special like me. You are waiting for a clever one-sided connection, so that neither one of us is alone.
It doesn’t matter, that we aren’t having MY thought at the exact same time. All that matters is that at some moment, in our recent recollection, we shared it. I know you will understand my brand of genius. Obviously, you wait in trembling anticipation, for the next novel diction to be delivered.
I am just a simple man really, not expecting anything but your constant attention. I’ve often been accused of being too humble, and feel the universe’s hand specifically helping only me, and yet I am appreciative, and feel really lucky that just being me hasn’t gone to my head, or my incredible brain.
My thoughts are the lattice of your new microcosms; my glorious plans under your new construction.
And being this extraordinary doesn’t come without its share of insecurities. Of course I am worried about many things. There is the minor fear that I will not be recognized as the next Shakespeare, or at least Wallace incarnate.
Not to mention, I feel somewhat ashamed that I hadn’t by now invented my own language, to transmit my transcendent ideas.
Such is the depth of me; I often despair, I could not find time enough, to invent another system of communication, to properly translate my full glory.
But I try not to be so hard on myself, and for now am content to write snippets. Not because I couldn’t write the greatest novel of all time. I’m just busy with stuff, like watching Sports Center and HGTV. My PVR does get bunged up quite often, and I am its only relaxative.
I am doing the TV a favor by watching; I also believe in charity.
I have no qualms about doing you the kindness, of bringing joy, by writing things that you will obviously love. It is an even grander gesture on my part, just in the simple fact that you haven’t even asked me to write more pieces. Luckily with such supreme writing talent, my powers of empathy are up to the challenge of telling you what you want to read. I have never been wrong yet, even though I have asked myself countless times.
So sit back and get ready to repeatedly raise a finger in the air, triumphantly yelling huzzah, with my every clever pun and witticism…
And then as some time passed, and I started noticing something strange.
My arm was getting tired, padding myself, like an insatiable cyber-peacock; strutting for power pellets, likes, and comments. It occurred to me, lo and behold, not everyone I knew, in the entire world, took the time to read, what I had written.
I reminded myself; of course that is okay, nobody wants a world of ‘yes’ people, faceless or not. I could never imagine wishing for a life, similar to uniglove Jackson or Bieber.
I also couldn’t help but wonder, why more people I know, didn’t LIKE everything I had ever written. Give me your fake love (requiring the bending of one finger), even just for this brief moment; which gave way to several days.
At which point, I had no choice but to clearly give up hope.
I declared my relationship with you, even more dead than my relationship with my Great, Great, not-so-great grandmother!
Once the rage settled, I graciously reflected, and thought again, about myself.
I wondered why I had such a harsh reaction, instead of continuing to bask; in your infrequent, but validating marinade, of digital signals?
Maybe I do desire an entire world of ‘yes’ people, and you are not behaving. Could that explain my despair when you ignore perhaps the deepest thoughts of my current pathetic inner minutia?
The wound only deepens, as I watch you pass out social currency, similar to an Escher PEZ dispenser, about someone’s picture of bottled water, or whether blue is gold, is black; is white.
But with a full email box, stress at work, a busy home, and diet and exercise to worry about, not to mention your unmentionable addictions, your mind is clearly full. This may be the style you prefer, but your choices come at a cost.
Simultaneously, in my secret rage, at your neglect, of my most fragile parts; I too pass out the same diluted Kool-Aid of LIKES and SHARES all around you. I want you to know, I am still capable of liking things, just not you.
All the while, I never stop to realize, that the S and M of Social Media creates a Special Matrix, a netherworld of distorted reality, where we are all Mr. Smith, and not Neo.
This place compels me, to sneak into your life at night, or when no one is looking, a time when adults are never at their best; in a way that would make William Gibson proud.
I want to see what possible holy Trinity took you away from me, pacing nervously, and praying I log off, before you notice.
The Internet Narcissist needs your constant reassurance, to tell them that they are relevant and exist. The vessel which holds the essence of their self esteem is cracked, by averted eyes, in the first few years.
The slow, daily leak of self worth, causes a puffing up of confidence, and grandiose over-compensations. When they are disagreed with, they strike with fury, and feel scarred for years.
The only way the undercover Narc usually finds their own secret identity, is when they re-imagine themselves in your eyes. Gleaming shiny badges of validation, filling cracks and voids.
That oftentimes requires your undivided attention, causing escalating attempts, to be noticed in any medium.
What the Narcissist never realizes, is that we are all the same, and equally worthy of attention.
Our sharing of ideas in the Internet medium is unique, and software has been bruised. We are not each other’s anonymous enemies, we are virtually friends.
The only actual enemy that any of us really have, is time.
If I was given unlimited time, I would find you, and tell you my apologies, while you tell me yours. With that done, we could return to that free bingo-space of social hierarchy. This time, there would be no omissions, for they simultaneously make us aware of the chasm between us, and provide no way to cross.
If we take this risk, perhaps for the first time, I can hear your real story, and you too, will want to hear mine.
And so I have learned that the secret to happiness and purpose, at least for the Narcissist, is discovering something even more wonderful than themselves.
And the cure for envy?
Focus on the health of your own grass so intently, you forget to notice if anyone else’s is greener.
Please tune in for Fragile Blogger, Part 2.
Simon Trepel, MD
Simon Trepel, MD FRCPC, is a practicing Child and Adolescent Psychiatrist, in Winnipeg, Canada. He is an Assistant Professor, at the University Of Manitoba, in the Faculty of Medicine, and the Co-founder of the GDAAY Clinic. He is, more importantly, the proud Father of 2 beautiful Daughters. He writes in his spare time about things he knows something about, and occasionally about things he doesn’t; like Yoga, and Italian flavored coffees. He was not referring to coffee that tastes like an Italian person.
Check out his Blog, called Simon Says Psych Stuff, at