3:55 pm
Well, I’ve been off social media–Facebook specifically–for two whole weeks as of today. And, I gotta say, I really don’t miss it, at all. Like, I almost forgot about the entire affair until I ran into someone I knew last night (who I am not FB friends with) and thought, man, I should Facebook friend them. And, then I thought, oh, wait, I’m NOT ON Facebook! Haha.
No, for real, I don’t miss it. Maybe I’ve just gotten lazy in these COVID times, but keeping up with my groups and news feed seems sort of futile–who cares if I miss something, right? Of course, I am following the news on individual websites, and it’s hard to miss the mainstream news if you turn on your TV, ever. However, I really couldn’t care less about what I may have missed when it comes to posts in my groups and by my friends. I meet up with my friends here, of which there are a few–and, that has been totally enough. I am not craving to know what they’re “doing” on Facebook; I feel like I am literally missing nothing.
That’s a relief! I thought I would feel like I was missing out–and, frankly, it’s made me wonder about something that was in the back of my mind that this break from Facebook helped to precipitate: is not sharing about your life on Facebook (or, in real life, too) the same as, not sharing your life? And, is either necessary to live a good life, however one defines “good”? Do I truly exist if I don’t share about my life on Facebook, or with anyone in the real world?
I have a roll of photos that only I have seen; I have tons of videos of our dog, but yet, NO ONE but me knows, really, of her life and times. Is that fair to her, to have no one remember her because I didn’t share? Am I depriving the world of something (my light, my perspective?) if I never share what I’m doing? I mean, if I moved to an island and disconnected from everyone, how would my family and friends feel? And, when I died on that island, would it have been a wasted existence since, except for me, no one else knew anything about it?
Two weeks ago, the thought of stopping sharing posts or photos of my life gave me a bad gut feeling–a feeling of fear, anxiety, dread; of, what will happen TO ME if I stop sharing about my life? It’s mostly gone now, surprisingly; however, I am 45, an introvert, and sober (as in, I have had years of feeling sort of like, an explorer in the Arctic, totally clear-minded but alone as fuck), so I wonder how strong this fear is for young people, who grew up on social media, whose entire sense of self/personal reality are intertwined with “existing” on social media?
Is the hardest part of leaving Facebook (or Twitter, or Instagram) not really a fear of missing out, but a fear of being forgotten, or, worse, never having existed? Maybe. Of course, we can share photos with people in real life, but, this aspect of the entire world being able to know us–a little piece of fame, maybe immortality–is appealing on such a base level.
Anyway, after two weeks, I definitely feel like the noise has stopped. I am receding into a quiet, perhaps naive, bubble of my small, but real, world; and it’s calming. I don’t feel overwhelmed by the bumbling thoughts and misperceived slights bouncing around in my head; I don’t feel overdone by the incessant headlines, most of which I can’t read (for lack of time and effort) and can’t do anything about anyway (stories about elephants being abused in Thailand, for instance!). I don’t feel like I’ve missed out on my actual friends’ lives; we have gotten quickly caught up in person when we have seen each other.
In fact, if I was job searching, writing, or reading (most of which I am doing, but um, not doing all that much of, I have to admit), I would probably be getting a lot done with all the noise gone and focus back!
On another note, our beaches re-opened last week, and this has been a glorious development! We’ve been a few times; yesterday was a perfect beach day, and it was the first Sunday Funday anyone has had in a long time–it was a good day.
Our dog is hanging in there; the vet told us that there wasn’t much more she could do, however, she thinks our girl still has time. Every day is a good day with her; every morning is a great morning to see her sweet almond eyes staring up at me, or her skinny back legs running like a horse in her sleep…
We’re just waiting, like everyone, for normalcy to return; and, while I said that as an introvert, I love me some lockdown solitude–even I am longing for things to start their upward swing soon. It’s getting a little too quiet in here!
Drunky Drunk Girl 