That I was self-harming, for instance. That I knew, deep within me, that I was a failure: as a daughter, as a sister, as a student, as a person. That it seemed like the world and everyone around me would be better off without me and the darkness I carried.\u202f<\/p>\n
Thankfully, there were times when the anxiety abated, when I felt some reprieve from my relentless emotional invalidation and negative self-talk.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Those times became more frequent when I found fan fiction and, subsequently, online friends. \u00a0\u202f<\/p>\n
I found a sense of community online<\/p>\n
My English teacher knew I was a writer, so she told me about a website one of her other students had joined, where people wrote stories using the characters and worlds of various films, TV shows or books. And so my fascination with fan-fiction began.<\/p>\n
I found stories that put into words the things I couldn’t name out loud. Stories about characters who were queer, or suspected they were \u2014 a suspicion I had long harboured about myself \u2014 and afraid of what their loved ones would think. Stories about introverted, lonely teenagers who limped or spasmed or self-harmed and were still, somehow, enough. Perhaps I could be too? \u00a0 \u00a0<\/p>\n
I chatted with other fan-fiction writers on Tumblr, one of the earlier social media platforms where users could share content in the form of blogs and private messages. I didn’t tell all my online friends the feelings I couldn’t share with people in real life. But I told some of them.\u202f<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The only things my online friends knew of me were the words I wrote and the parts of me I chose to share. (Supplied)<\/p>\n
And there was a sense of freedom to my communication even among those I didn’t tell. They asked about my day and I asked about theirs. But to them, I wasn’t miserable or selfish or boring. At least, I didn’t have to be. I could choose to share or not and all they knew of me were the words I wrote and the parts of me I chose to share.<\/p>\n
One of my online friends, Shelby, was a huge Harry Potter fan, like me. I came home from school one day, feeling exhausted and inadequate and ready to self-harm. But I checked my inbox first.<\/p>\n
There was a message from Shelby: “I wrote a new story about Hermione thanks to our conversations.”<\/p>\n
She’d dedicated it to me.<\/p>\n
She didn’t know it, but with that message, she’d changed the course of my day, broken the circuit in my brain, allowing me \u2014 for that night, at least \u2014 to give myself grace and keep myself safe.<\/p>\n
I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been banned<\/p>\n
Social media gave me safety, even though I know my experience could have been very different. \u00a0<\/p>\n
I was lucky. I escaped the negative aspects of the online world and immersed myself in the positive ones. I was also lucky because the federal government hadn’t yet banned social media for people under 16.<\/p>\n