I’ve been getting that lurking feeling lately. You know that one where you can go about your daily business happily enough, but there’s this heavy sort of unease weighing you down. You can smile and laugh but it ends more abruptly and you’re not sure why. Or maybe you do know why but you don’t want to deal with it. You push it to the back of your mind so that it can sit there all dark and fuzzy. Except the feeling keeps creeping back, and it swirls around inside your brain so that it clouds everything else. No matter how many times you visualise scraping it out, it comes back like a wave creeping up the shore, forcing you to deal with it, or at the very least acknowledge that it’s there.
Maybe you’re worrying about someone, a child or a family member perhaps. Maybe you have a health concern that you know should be checked out by a doctor. Maybe it’s that you haven’t been to the dentist in four years. Maybe it’s something you’re meant to have done but keep putting off, a promise you haven’t fulfilled. Maybe it’s something you regret. Maybe it’s work related. Maybe it’s a worry that you need to share but you’re not sure how to.
‘Lurkers’ are personal but we all get them from time to time, or if you’re a particularly good worrier you’ll manage to host a lurker most of the year round, like old friends – one worry will high five the next. I’m a genuinely happy person, I love to laugh and honestly do manage to see the good in most situations and people. I consider myself relatively normal (with just enough kook to hopefully be interesting) but I still get them.
The way I see it, lurkers are a part of life.
Now that I’m in my thirties, I’ve hosted my fair share of lurkers and can recognise the signs pretty quickly when one comes to stay. I’ve got one now. You’re already probably thinking that I’m a total nutso so I might as well tell you that I actually visualise lurkers as vultures, with their scary eyes and hooked beaks – ready to pick at you. Scoff, laugh, whatever – if my sharing this helps someone else I’m cool with that.
So these lurkers, what do we do with them? Well I am no mental health professional, I am not a counsellor or trained in any way to deal with the stuff that goes on inside other people’s heads. I’m just going to share with you the way I deal with a lurker, because sharing is about the best I can do.
Firstly, as annoying as it is, I recognise that the lurker is there. Hello Lurker. Yes I see you. I’m a bit busy right now with work, kids, life etc but how about we meet up at 4am when you can tell me all about yourself in every minute detail? It’s a date, super!
So I’ve recognised the lurker, he’s a bit happier now because he knows I’m aware of him – he doesn’t need to keep shouting.
Next we have a heart-to-heart. Lay it all out, what’s on your mind Lurker?
‘Well to be perfectly honest, I’m freaking the heck out about all this terrorism stuff. It’s all over the news, the internet, social media, people keep talking about…I’m trying to stay positive, I’m trying to stay rational but I look at my innocent little kids and I AM FREAKING OUT about their future.’
Okay Lurker, that’s good, I bet you feel better for sharing your worry (I don’t really say this, it’s just what sort of happens when you listen to the lurker).
Now everything is out in the open (in my head that is). The next thing I do is think about what I can control. What can I actually do to help myself? Once I’ve figured that out I can work out some steps, an action plan.
With this particular lurker there is only so much I can do. I cannot stop terrorism. I cannot stop people being hateful. But I do have control over quite a few things.
Firstly, I think about when I feel the lurker most.
I feel him whenever I watch the news, which makes sense. The media love to generate hysteria, they want drama, they want to attract attention. They’ll brandish headlines with the word TERROR in capitals before any confirmation of motive has even been given. I’m not trying to diminish the need to report on such atrocities, but I find the media more interested in producing ‘click bait’ than informing the general public responsibly. Scary sells.
So I’m reducing my access to the news, I can control that. If something happens, I’ll find out about it soon enough.
The other time I feel the lurker most supremely is when I read articles and comments on social media. The hateful and offensive language, the total lack of want or ability to empathise with others, it’s enough to make you lose faith in all of human kind. I’m not just talking about the issue of terrorism, I’m talking about any divisive topic. Social media has provided the platform for every goose with an opinion to share it (the irony isn’t lost on me, as a goose who is sharing her opinion right now) and some of the geese are dangerous. If you get stuck in a social media world, it would be easy to think all humans are angry and divided. That’s not the day-to-day reality. If you talk to people face-to-face you get the whole person, not just one sentence, and most people are kind, good people, regardless of where they stand on any debate. Social media has given us a warped sense of reality, and it’s not the reality I live in (thank goodness).
So I’ve unfollowed every click-bait-producing social media page. I can control that. I am making a conscious decision to stop reading offensive comments because they just upset me, and while I have no control over what others say (which is a good thing, freedom of speech and all that), I have complete control over what I read. The world does not need my well intentioned but no less inflammatory online responses. Actually, I figure the world probably needs more people to just shoosh. To just be moderate. To live in the real world more than the online one. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my opinion, it just means I won’t add it to the plethora of social media noise. But I’m getting off the track, this piece is about lurkers not social media.
The other thing I can control are my actions. The lurker is worried for my innocent little children. It’s worried about what the future will look like for them. Of course it is. But my worrying isn’t helping them, or anyone else. I can help them by offering a loving home that is filled with as much positivity and laughter as we can muster. I can help them by trying to build their resilience. I can help them by getting them out in the fresh air and exposing them to lots of different beautiful people. I can help them by involving them in the sporting and community groups that interest them. I can help them by encouraging them to make real connections with real people, because real people are wonderful. They truly are. I have control over all of that (while they are young!)
The last thing I can do to satisfy the lurker is to accept what I cannot control. I cannot control terrorism, I can only put my faith in our elected government to do what is right and best. To quieten my lurker I have to accept that for a while, and throw my energy into all that is good about living in our incredible country. I can be grateful.
So it’s a work in progress with this lurker but I guess they’re the general ‘steps’ I take.
- Recognise the lurker.
- Lay it all out – to yourself at the very least, but talking to someone else is even better.
- Think about what I can control. Action plan.
- Accept what I cannot control and try to move on.
God you people are going to think I’m bat-shet crazy after reading this.
Clearly I do not have life sorted and I absolutely do not profess to be any kind of mental health expert – I’m just a very average person sharing my thoughts so somebody else might feel a tiny bit more normal. It’s scary sharing this sort of stuff but I think it’s important, and you know I’m a blurter so there it is!
I always feel so much better after addressing a lurker, so I guess I’d better make that dentist appointment, ergh.
Eliza xx
‘Bird Shadows’ photo credit: https://samscotti.wordpress.com/2010/11/15/my-heart-breaks/bird-shadows
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