I came to Twitter in June 2009. I had long heard about it being the rapid communication medium of media sorts such as Stephen Fry (the Twitter King) and other lower key, if more vociferous, celebrities. Most Radio DJs spring to mind; many journalists and American A, B, C and Z-listers.

Disillusioned by the Pet Societies, Farmvilles, Zoos and Mafia Wars of Facebook and the never-ending stream of gifts and invitations amongst the real communications I wanted to keep, I stepped over tentatively to the “other side”.

The basic premise is that you state (Tweet) whatever you are doing (or thinking or contemplating) in 140 characters or less. I started Tweeting into the ether. 20+ Tweets of what I had for breakfast, how my mother’s chicks were faring, went unheard – or unacknowledged. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I acquired a Follower. She was interested in me! We started chatting, and other people she knew “saw” me, and started following me. Suddenly I had a group of friends. Except: we weren’t friends. They had befriended me on the information I had provided… who I felt I wanted to be, but was not. I was never the dig my own potatoes, run 20 miles before breakfast and concoct wonderful new recipes for dinner they believed me to be… It was all wrong.

Just as I was about to shut up shop another person, like me came along. The sad thing is I don’t remember who it was. All I remember is there was a real connection, and truth, and confidences, and chatter and nonsense and laughter… and then came more, and more and more wonderful people.

I am now followed by over 800 people, and actively follow about 500 back. Some of the people I follow don’t follow me – but why should they? The fact is their lives to me are more interesting than my life to them. Occasionally our paths coincide and I will end up, somehow, through sheer happenstance, having conversations with “celebrities” – who turn out to be just knackered, overworked (although seldom overpaid!) people, parents, sons, sisters, brothers, lovers like the rest of us.

The other great leveller of Twitter is that I can be totally open about my Bipolar Disorder. Nobody judges me. At least nobody I know – if they can’t cope with the fact I cannot be constantly witty and amusing – they simply disappear unheard back into the ether. I can say when I am reaching my nadir (in fact I no longer have to – I am inundated with messages should I be missed for 2 or 3 hours). I am actively watched by a few I trust implicitly for signs of mania – who know how to draw me back in gently, or ring alarm bells if need be.

Twitter is my world of other Mummies “are my children the only ones awake at 4.30 this morning asking if it is Christmas yet?” “NO!” comes 30 replies….

I am not alone. I am not judged. I have all sorts of friends. I have literary friends; cooking friends; mummy friends; daddy friends; friends who suffer mental illness – either themselves or family; friends who live in Switzerland, Finland, Austria, Germany; Mexico; USA; Canada; friends who are secretly in love; friends who are openly in love; bands I would never ever have heard of; humorous friends; sad friends; flirty friends.

In all I can reach out to the whole gamut of humanity and learn their stories – and they learn mine: the fun times, and the bad times. Our common denominator is that at worst we are open to each other. At best – and it really is a best – we love each other.

Twitter, despite anything you might read, or hear from the less informed (have they actually participated?) is a very real community and one I am proud to be a part of.

PS I have met some of these invisible beings – and not only are they real, with arms, legs and a brain – they are kind and true friends… and not an axe between them ;-)