I strongly believe in the saying someone is always worse off than you, but I am a firm believer in the better saying, which I may have actually made up myself, that your problems are still your problems and no matter how shit the world is around you, it doesn’t change what you are going through.
This time of year social media is full of people making changes to their lives, which is great but for some it isn’t possible. You are left feeling shit and worthless because you feel like you can’t achieve what someone else has, or could never look like XYZ.
There’s a million reasons why someone posts the changes they are making to their lives, but also a million reasons why it’s okay to ignore it. Plus, we all know what you see on social media isn’t what you get, so we shouldn’t think about it too much.
And I am a perfect example of that. Why I hear you cry? Take my amazing New York snaps from the start of the year (ah memories). There I was on my first day in my favourite city, snapping away, posting smiling selfies with Carol, when behind the scenes my world almost ended. Okay, I may be being a tad dramatic here but it was still very traumatic and had it ended differently my whole may of actually ended, or my NYC dreams anyways.
We left the hotel and was heading up towards Central Park and down Fifth Avenue for some fun January sales shopping. I felt good, I was wearing my cute new hat, I was in New York, I was happy as baby Jesus after we all celebrated his birthday for the billionth time. Merry Christmas hun.
But then my worst fears came to light. I started to have ridiculous stomach pains. Sometimes I can shrug them off, or just walk around being in a pain and go about my day. It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last. Sometimes however, sometimes I cannot ignore the pain, it doesn’t go away and it turns into I really need to get to a toilet or I am going to shit my pants in a few minutes.
It’s a known thing in New York that, like any other city, they have a huge shortage of toilets. In certain areas you will not see a toilet for miles, unless you knock on someone’s apartment building and beg to be let in. Even then, your chances are very slim, and you’ll probably end up having to use the facilities in the nearest NYPD jail cell.
I start spinning around in circles (quite literally at one point), at the crossing between Central Park and Fifth Avenue. Do I risk it and ask the doormen of The Plaza, as that is my closest building, knowing that my shit is not fancy enough to poop in The Plaza’s facilities, and I could just be wasting time explaining my Crohn’s situation to them when I could be looking for an actual toilet that I am allowed to use.
Carol, ever so kindly asked a man working at the Paris cinema. He pointed us to the Apple Store across the road. A flicker of hope came across my face, that soon disappeared when I remembered a vlog I saw the other day where there were huge queues just to get in to the store. Will I shit my pants standing on the stairs going down to the Apple Store? Will it affect everyone below me with the whole gravity thing and all.
I couldn’t risk it.
My only hope before I was banned from ever returning to New York City for shitting in the street, was the fancy department store Bergdorf Goodman.
I ran in, straight up to the first person I saw asking where the restrooms were. I didn’t even care if he worked there, he needed to give me the information I required instantly. Thankfully I had the US lingo down as my bowels did not have time to explain what a loo was. Then my face fell, thankfully I had not shit my pants just yet but the damn toilets were on the 7th floor. No pun intended but you could not make this shit up.
Anyways, long story short I made it with probably a millisecond to spare. I honestly thought this was going to be the day I shit myself in New York City. Carol later confirmed that she thought this was going to be the case too. Oh how we laughed, but not too hard in case it made my bowels get frisky again.
Thankfully, I lived to tell this glorious tale but I still have a panic about it now and again. I would have been on the news, they’d write articles and stories of the Welsh girl who shit herself in the big apple. I can see the headlines now, Big Arsehole Leakage in the Big Apple. Oh the horror.
What is the point of this shit show I hear you ask (pun fully intended on that one), my point is, do not let social media fool you. You would never think looking at my posts that the world had just fallen out of my arsehole, and I almost died in the process.
It’s the second month of 2025 and I am here to tell you right now, we will not beat ourselves up this year for what we see on social media. because, let’s face it, they aren’t being completely honest either, but then who does want to hear a story of how I just almost shit myself rather than the beautiful scenes of Manhattan, I know I don’t.
Social media is just a fun tool to escape reality, don’t let it take away your hope and happiness, it wasn’t built for that. You got this my babes.
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