When I was twelve I created an Instagram account. I know that was really young but bear with me. At that age I felt like I had gone through some stuff that most kids hadn’t and I knew what it was like to be sad. I wanted to spread positivity and make people happy. I posted a picture of a sticky note with a message: “you are amazing”. I got a lot of good feedback – or at least I thought I did – and I really felt like I was doing something good. I kept uploading cheesy posts and upbeat messages. Later on at some point I decided I wanted to try and reach out to more people. After all, you never know who needs just needs a little smile to brighten up their day. I looked up the recent posts under the hashtag “sad”. This was the beginning of a grim rabbit hole.
The sad hashtag contains mostly mildly somber posts. Heartbroken song lyrics over a beautiful sunset, melancholy short stories, pictures of the rain, that type of thing. I went in further and looked up the hashtag “depressed”. As I am writing this I am looking up the hashtag and I receive not one, but two separate popups asking if I need help. At age twelve I go into this blindly. I am met with posts about mature topics that I will quickly become knowledgeable about: mental illnesses, eating disorders, suicide, etc. There are accounts filled strictly with these types of posts from people who feel alone and only have their anonymous followers to vent to. This was a job that was way too big for me, but I tried anyway.
I would reach out to anyone and everyone. I wanted them to have someone to talk to about their situation. I tried to say encouraging words and offer what little resources I knew about that were universally available. Hearing of people’s unfortunate situations saddened me, but it also helped me realize how imperceptive I was, and how the internet can connect people from anywhere. Over the years I talked to people from everywhere. I comforted a girl who lives in Australia that was being bullied and I tried to assure her it wasn’t her fault. I listened to a girl in England tell me her experiences with racism as a Muslim hijabi. I talked to a boy in Canada through a really rough night he didn’t want to make it out of.
Trying to be there for everyone was difficult sometimes, but the relationships I developed and being able to watch people grow made it more than worth it. A year from that night, the Canadian boy was back in school, playing sports and had a girlfriend. After a long uphill battle, I was able to hear a girl from Ireland tell me about how she came out to her mom and eventually her school, and we’ve stayed in contact regularly over the five years I’ve known her.
I can’t help everyone, but I don’t think it hurts to try. I still have that eagerness to care for those around me. I want to help those in lonely situations and work to prevent them from potentially dangerous situations and make mental health resources more easily available. I recently looked through the list of the account I am following and saw dozens of those anonymous accounts; most of them haven’t made posts in several years. I hope for the best case scenario, but I use it as motivation to do more.
Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have had a social media account that young, and I am lucky nothing bad happened, but I am thankful I did have it. It helped me realize you don’t have to have money or travel to make a difference. I can help anywhere and know that small changes will lead to bigger changes. Whether it’s helping out in your community, checking on your friends, or being there for others, there is always an opportunity to help close by.
See my Instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/ikyliekrazy/