I definitely just stared at this screen for 8 minutes before this sentence suddenly came to me. Not even sure where to begin.
I broke away from the Facebook (a term for FB that I will now use, as a lovable and slightly dorky "older person") for almost 5 months. I won't get into any details, as it isn't important to really dwell on the straw that broke that poor little camel's back, but let's just say one night I said "I'm done". I was done signing on to see things that angered me. Politically, spiritually, personally. The time had come to stop it; after all, I was choosing the anger, wasn't I? I was associating with things that upset me. I was putting my password in to log on. I was taking time from my day to get completely lost in negativity. I realized then that I was the only one who could stop it.
People asked me what happened. They wanted to hear a story of a blowout, or that I was hiding from people who were out to get me. They wanted drama and I didn't have any. It was so much bigger than a dramatic encounter with an internet troll, or someone that I had pissed off, or something really meaningless like that. It was a culmination of everything but, mostly, it started so long ago with the election. I'm not whining about the election here still, I'm simply stating what attributed to most of my rage on the internet. It was, and still is, all so silly. Not our lives, our freedoms, or our country's current situation, but the non-stop chatter from this, that, and the other one. I didn't recognize my news feed, nor did I know who my friends were anymore. Out in the "real world", yes, I had people that I could look in the eye and talk to. We could laugh and joke and have a good time. Those were the people I wanted, I NEEDED, to keep me sane. I could look straight at them and say that maybe we should talk about something else, or agree to disagree, and they would concur. Then we could go on drinking [way too much] wine and living in peace.
These little devices are so easy to hide behind. I got to the point where I decided that if someone wanted to say something to me, or air their grievances with me, that they could good-old-fashioned say it to my face. That expression sounds so rude and combative, but it doesn't have to be. I wanted to interact with the people I loved in a constructive way, and I think that I forgot that that should be a priority to me. I've debated, I've argued, I've explained, and I've disagreed with people. It happens and it always will. On the computer/phone/tablet/apple watch thingy, it was too easy to start changing my views of people that I knew I liked but could no longer identify with. Like I said, the chatter was loud.
I was too upset to keep myself composed sometimes. The country was upset, I was a part of that, and I didn't know what to do with it. Most of the world jumped on the internet and, when I got involved too, it hurt. Everyone lashed out at screens instead of sitting for conversations, myself included. We all spiraled, and no one knew how to stop the ride. I found out that pulling the emergency lever was my only chance.
I missed the good parts. I missed the funny things people would send me. I missed making fun of my family for loving animals in every post they made. Speaking of family, I also missed the other half that posted so much about Tom Brady that I had to send multiple eye-rolls their way every week. I missed my dark-humored friends sending me [non political] memes that probably made my mom cringe. I missed catching up with people I never got to see but missed dearly. I missed putting up my cuties' pics for all to see. Unfortunately, at that point in February, the bad outweighed the good content, and I fled the scene like the Facebook was on fire.
I can only hope that, after some time away, I can get back to what I loved about social media. It's not the selfies or the made-up political facts or the memes damning anyone who doesn't agree with exactly what you believe. It's not the people who troll groups and posts just to come down on someone with cruelty to get a rise. It's definitely not to have angry, ugly debates with people I don't know, or even worse, people I do know and care about. For me, I have to keep it light. I have to keep it about pictures of my kids, silly things my husband does, inane blogs about things that I care about, peppered with R-rated language for the [tiny] masses who read along. I love jokes and laughs and irony. If you're not IN my life, then I can safely bet that I don't really need to see what you ate for lunch or scroll through 34 selfies of your night out. No offense, of course, but it's just too much.
The internet is big, it's overwhelming, and I'm not sure our heads can really wrap around this enormous thing we call social media. It's an addictive drug that we are being handed for free. We forget about feelings, human beings, trees, smells of rain (which is what I can smell right now, sitting by this open window as I type). We disconnect, even though we get a little message saying we are "connecting".
If this sounds judgmental, it's not. If it sounds like there are people I don't like because of this Facebook sabbatical, there aren't. If it sounds like I think I'm more enlightened than you, well, shit, I could only wish to be that put-together. I'm going into this with a larger awareness of myself and a smaller friends list. Let's hope that's the winning combination.
Jeez, first day back and I've found that soapbox of mine. Just where I left it.
