So long, Facebook.
I have bid adieu to my personal Facebook account. It’s something I’ve been considering doing for awhile now, and, in fact, it is something I did for a few months during my pregnancy with Addison. It felt odd, at that time, to be an expecting parent and on Facebook. Facebook was this thing that I did in college, and somehow stepping over the threshold into motherhood made me feel as though I had moved passed that stage. But as Facebook evolved and I experienced intense loneliness in my days as a new mom living 3,000 miles from my family and closest friends, I reactivated my account.
But recently I’ve been feeling, well, shitty, every time I open my Facebook wall. Perhaps it’s my own burning insecurities, but the stupidest, silliest things were making me feel “less than,” jealous, and inadequate. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d read this study about Facebook’s impact on happiness back when it was published in 2011. Essentially, people that spend lots of time on Facebook (i.e. moi) looking at their “happy” “friends” are unhappy. Big shocker there.
I was experiencing petty, childish thoughts like, “Why did that person like her post but not mine?” Or, “How come she had so many comments when her baby was born?” Or, “Why do I have to look at yet ANOTHER picture of that person’s engagement ring/ vacation on an exotic island/ baby/ wedding/ marathon/ dog/ food/ insert positive life experience here?”
Pot. Kettle. Black. I know. I have an entire BLOG with pictures and stories about every little detail of my life. But somehow, this space feels different. People opt to come here and know that they’ll be inundated with that kind of one-sided, Ashley-centric view. And while yes, you could argue that you determine your own Facebook stream by controlling who you are friends with, etc., the slew of images of engagement rings, and baby photos, and plates of food, and marathon running updates feels forced and icky when constantly bombarding your wall. At least that’s how it made me feel. And there was just no need for it. And because I know I lack the self control to A. visit less frequently and B. not get sucked into the black hole that is Facebook when I did visit, I needed to go cold turkey.
Call me insecure. Or overly sensitive. Or no longer hip with the times. But I’ll be here, happily basking in the glow of my sun lamp and my Facebook-free existence. Which, is really a half truth, as I’m keeping the page for the blog, but that, much like the blog itself, is horribly one-sided and not so insecurity-inducing.
And so I ask you this, because I really would love to know – Do you use Facebook and if so, have you ever experienced these emotions or thoughts? How have you managed them? Why do you have a personal Facebook account and how often do you visit it? What are the chances that I won’t cave and reactivate my account tomorrow when I suddenly have a three hour void in my day from all the appalling, habituated time I used to spend in that space? And, of course, if you don’t use it, did you ever? What made you leave? How’s life on the other side?
I’d love to hear from you. And I promise it won’t make me seethe with irrational jealousy. Probably.
