For most of my life, I looked down on Celebrities who felt the need to splurt the intimate details of their personal lives everywhere. I've always thought it was tacky. As an actor, I believe it's essential to keep a modicum of mystery so you're believable as different characters. Not to mention, it can make you appear desperate for attention.
If you read Guts, or any other part of this blog, you're probably thinking I'm an open book. But let me assure you, this is far from the case. Certainly, I'm now quite happily honest about certain aspects of my life. But I still believe other parts of my life are sacred and therefore, I keep them as private as possible. For instance: I rarely share specifics of my love life, friendships, family nor have I ever let a magazine photograph my home.
I was raised to keep everything personal private. I was taught to hide, lie, or say "no comment." From a young age I undersood that whatever you present to people is what matters, not how you really feel. (Is it any wonder I became a pill-popping lush?) Therefore, when Social Media first came along, I completely ignored it. I knew next to nothing about it, except I was savvy enough to know that there is no crueler being on earth than a nameless, faceless entinty hidden behind a computer screen. It all sounded so hideous to me...why on earth would anyone open themselves up to the slings and arrows of the bitter and ball-less?
Everything changed when my book, GUTS, came out in March of 2012.
As the release date neared, I was completely flabbergasted to discover that instead of the multi-million dollar press machine I was used to when promoting a television show, I was now pretty much left to my own devices to sell my book. Instead of the nation-wide book tour and packed book signings I'd imagined, all I had were 4 book signings scheduled in tiny local book stores, each attended by less than 20 people. I was baffled.
This can't be right.
The final straw came at one event in New Jersey, when I looked in the store window to see 10 folding chairs, all empty save for one bored woman eating a sandwich. I began to hyperventilate, and went to the parking lot to call my Literary Agent, torn between fury, humiliation and heartbreak.
"I don't understand, Lydia. Nobody's here. Has no one publicized this??!"
"Nowadays they don't really do book tours." She said "Most advertising is done through Social Media."
"Well, their social media person sucks."
"No, Kristen." She said, with eternal patience. "Most authors nowadays have a presence on Twitter and Facebook. Publishers rely heavily on an author's self-promotion. In fact, unless you're Stephen King, most books nowadays have literally no budget for promotion."
"Are you telling me that they paid me a huge chunk of money, and I spent a year & a half writing this thing with virtually no help--and yet---and yet" I felt myself going faint "No one will know it exists??!!"
"That's right. Unfortunately, it's all up to you."
I joined twitter and Facebook the next day.
And she was right. Talk show appearances, reviews and articles helped, but Social Media has been the most powerful tool in spreading the word about my book. In fact, without it, GUTS would've died a cruel, quick, painful death. It's why I retweet so many positive comments about it. I'm sure it gets rather annoying, and I do try to keep it to a minimum. But I'm all I got, I'm damn proud of it, and I've been determined to do whatever I can to make sure as many people as possible know about it. Every speaking event or book signing have been scheduled by me and my manager.
But the book was just the beginning.
I never could have imagined the great & glorious gifts being a "presence" on social media afforded me. I've met, and continue to meet and interact with truly extraordinary people from all over the globe. I've laughed my ass off, and even made a few dear friendships. It has changed me, forever, and I'm deeply grateful to it.
But by the same token, I never could have imagined the betrayals, frustrations, confusions and hurt that awaited me.
At first, I was dazzled, overwhelmed and so happy that so many people reached out to me to express things they'd never told anyone before. About their own addiction, their son or daughters', their husbands', their fathers', their mothers', their friends' addictions. I was, and still am, deeply honored that people trusted me with their hidden shames and terrible secrets. I've done my very best to listen, and help each and every one to the best of my limited capabilities.
Of course, I've always made very clear that I'm not a specialist, I've had no training in addiction or psychology. I'm simply an actress who who wrote a book. But I'd read and respond to as many as possible, always encouraging people to get real help.
After spending most of my life hating myself, feeling like a fraud, a waste of space....suddenly I was really and truly helping people. It was the best feeling in the world.
Unfortunately, it started to go bad as soon as I tried to establish boundaries with some of these people. Granted, most people instantly did their best to respect my requests. But there are those who refused to, leaving me in a terrible position. As someone who never even understood what boundaries were, let alone which ones were important to me until my late 30's--this was a completely new world.
Here are just a few of the boundaries that matter to me:
"For my own sobriety, I have to ask you to stop contacting me drunk or high."
"You seem to be angry I didn't respond to you right away. Please respect that I work, have a life and can't be at your beck & call."
"I'm not equipped to handle this kind of crisis, please call 911."
"I've already given you the names & numbers of people in your area who can assist you, and you refuse to call them. Yet you continue to turn to me in constant crisis."
"Please don't write me that you're suicidal. How can I possibly help you? What is it you want me to say? Please call 911 and/or call a close friend/family member."
"I can't meet with anyone from Social Media for coffee. Otherwise I'd never leave Starbucks."
"I can't call your family member/friend and talk them out of their addiction."
"I can't get you an acting job."
I could go on and on and on and on....
You may think these are ridiculous, but each statement above I've had to write many, many times to many different people.
And even then, I can't begin to count how many times they were ignored.
When people refused to respect my boundaries, even people I considered friends, I knew I had no choice but to block them/end the friendship. A few of them now hate me with a passion, conveniently forgetting the months and months of patience and generosity I showed them. Some have even gone so far as to spread lies about me, my mental health, my sobriety.
I've learned to ignore it, but I can't tell you how challenging it's been to finally feel deserving of boundaries for the 1st time in my life, only to be hated for trying to establish them.
So many people are so damaged and in so much pain. I really understand that.
And, God help me, I know the hell of addiction, and clinical depression.
What has blown me away is how deeply selfish and self-serving so many are. Another person's needs mean nothing compared to their own. They try to force their will upon you, manipulate, lie, pretend, gossip, do whatever they can to have their needs met.
And no matter what you're comfortable with giving, it is never, ever enough.
Once, someone on twitter helped me out with a bullying situation. That person, let's call her Karen, subsequently got involved with some pretty crazy women on twitter. Two other crazies didn't like this, and began demanding that I renounce Karen. But I refused to, because Karen had helped me. I blocked them. For a year since I've been attacked by these two women, one of whom apparently loves to rage about me in her blogs. I've never read them, nor will I.
I've never publicly spoken ill of them, nor will I.
But all this simply because I spoke honestly about my positive experience with Karen?
If you spend all day, every day, attacking people simply because they like someone you don't, something is very wrong with you.
If you attack someone, send them emails, or post their addresses or pictures of their children, or write letters to their place of employment, sadly, twitter will do nothing.
But anyone sane knows the truth: you are sick, and any punishment I could think of probably couldn't touch the miserable existence you wake up to every day.
A week ago, Fagsy Malone (my dear friend and the man who helped me design this blog) suggested I come up with a list of Twitter dont's. And I had every intention of writing a sassy, funny blog about it.
But I'm tired of the awful behavior I see on social media. I don't want to reprimand thousands of grown-ups for behavior they'd punish their own children for exhibiting.
Think about it. Really think about it. Does it make you happy? Do you feel fulfilled? Is spreading hate really that fun for you?
And for those addicted to being a victim, look within. The pride you feel when getting yourself help is something I could never give you.
KJo
