American culture, Facebook, Uncategorized

The Book Without My Face

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In the end, it will not matter or make the least bit of difference to anyone but me.

Yet I believe it will vastly improve my life.

And that is why I’m leaving Facebook.

Starting now, my detox begins. And it is an addiction, no doubt about that. We pretend it is not, but it most certainly is. Whether it’s just deleting the app, or entirely deactivating my account, one way or another it needs to be out of my life for at least a good long while.

My life has not been enriched by Facebook. My faith has not been enriched by Facebook. My family has not been enriched by Facebook. My relationship with my spouse has not been enriched by Facebook. And I certainly interact with the platform far different than I do the other forms of social media I use.

But I finally reached the point where I am just tired. Tired of the correctness, or lack thereof, tired of watching what I say and how I say it because this friend is a liberal and that friend is a conservative, or that person in my feed hates this sports team and I don’t want to start World War III on anything. Tired of wondering if it’s my page and I can say what I want, or if because I post in the public sphere I’m fair game.

I am tired of pretending that most of the people in my feed are my friends to begin with. And I am tired of pretending that I am their friend, too.

That’s meant more wistfully than sarcastically or hurtfully.

At some point, we probably were friends. But there is a reason that before Facebook we didn’t remain close or that those friendships fell aside. For a while, it was fun to see from afar what people I used to know were up to. But reading a post or seeing a picture doesn’t really tell me who someone is now.

I truly wish I knew some of the people in my Friends list better, saw them more. Some of them, I forgot were there, honestly.

But regardless of status, in my mind, this is charade. We’re just pretending to know enough and care a little. My phone is a internet device, with fewer phone calls and texts to take or read than time spent app scrolling. But it brings out some of the worst reactions I have ever seen.

The name of the app itself is Book of Faces. Ever heard to not judge the book by its cover?

Because all Facebook seems to actually do is put even more labels on us, not knowing who the real person is behind the likes and shares and tagged photos.

It would take someone far greater and smarter than me to do the necessarily research and analysis on this, but is there a small chance that part of the apparent growing divide in this country – which at the moment feels like the Grand Canyon – could be caused by our use of social media?

Not only that, but I get tired of myself sometimes. I can’t imagine what other people thought when I mindlessly clicked like on about 25 posts about the New England Patriots winning the AFC Championship Sunday. (Yes, in case you didn’t know, I am a Pats fan – but let’s not open up that can of worms).

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Point being, I just clicked “Like” on every photo I saw. Over. And over. And over. Without even really thinking, “Hey, this is going to show up in everyone’s feed who hasn’t already hidden you.” And that only matters because others, almost with a carnal reaction as well, will inevitably judge you on your likes, your posts and shares.

Lately, it has gotten worse. Now I feel as though what I like, what I post, what I share – or more importantly, what I do not like, post or share – is somehow the only representation or part of me that people see.

And it’s not that that is unexpected or that I’m chiding anyone who’s been guilty of doing that. I have done it, too. We’re humans. We process what we see and react to it. We can’t help it.

But it’s incredibly dangerous for so many reasons. We are not who we always appear to be, for better or worse. And our reactions run the gamut – from idolizing people or couples who we think are “perfect” to despising those we find that do not align with our already rooted bias’.

Again, this somehow makes us feel like we know someone, when we don’t. Facebook has created a mini-celebrity culture, just like the one in Hollywood where the message is controlled and everyone appears a certain, packaged way.

As I’ve written before, I am incredibly guilty myself of not keeping up with my friendships the way I should have or wanted to. But it’s also a two-way street. All I know is that my friendships are worse because of Facebook and the lazy idea that it fills in the gaps.

If we want to truly fix what ails America, it starts with becoming more humble and kind. We treat strangers horribly, but possibly that is because we started treating our friends like strangers first.

I am not naïve. I do not believe my simple decision to leave Facebook will make even the slightest of ripples. The machine will keep turning come tomorrow morning. People will continue to start verbal wars with each other about some of the silliest and inconsequential things, typing things they would never say to someone’s face.

But now, it just won’t include me.

It isn’t necessarily Facebook or social media in general that is bad. It would be tough and certainly irresponsible to blame a program for all this (unless we’re talking about TRON, which we can do, by the way – just give me a call.)

But by and large, social media has given an easy out to the rise of cynicism and criticism. It has provided a megaphone to a platform for a whole different kind of bullying. We like to think and pretend this is teens pressuring classmates. However, we adults make them look boring.

I have watched how we’ve responded to elections, general news, social issues, marches, to statements of opinion and I’ve come to the conclusion that we are worse than our children simply because we cannot handle it if everyone does not agree with us. We cannot even pretend to objectively hear someone else’s opinion because if it disagrees with ours, then we come out with verbal pistols firing like it’s the climax scene in Young Guns II.

And I’m not afraid to admit all of this serves to negatively affect me. I realize that I have allowed someone’s comments or posts to impact my opinion of them. Whether it should or should not is both parts irrelevant and up to whatever values or morals I hold to be important. But the point is, I am letting this platform dictate my opinions without spending the time to hear more about why someone thinks that way. Which is just lazy.

If we can recall such a time without social media, we spent time talking in depth about something. The pictures we shared weren’t captioned, there was a story to them. And hearing the story, seeing the form of emotion on someone’s face telling the story made it a connection point, which built bonds.

We all have enough to worry about in life. It is too short of a ride. Why spend it dealing with the decorum and unwritten rules necessary to circumnavigate a simple post on social media? Why spend it knowing everything and nothing about someone at the same time?

I probably sound old. I probably sound nostalgic for something that perhaps never really was.

So be it.

I know who I am, but I fear we are not taking the time to be present and to build our friendships and relationships because we’re too busy scrolling our News Feeds and posting selfies.

I kind of want people to wonder what I’m doing, what I’m up to – and then if they are inclined – reach out to me for lunch or to hang out and find out for themselves. And I should be willing to do the same for them.

To do that, I think I need to take my Face out of the Book. It’s perhaps the only way for me to truly have friends that know who I am, and not just my latest profile picture.

In the end, it probably will not matter or make the least bit of difference to anyone but me.

So be it.

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