It was a long time coming. I’d been in and out for over a year. We tried. As is common with the female in the relationship, I tried the most. I set boundaries, specific times we could see each other but it was all ignored.
My attention was demanded, and my time sucked away.
I began to saw the ugly side. The endless political rants and grey area bigotry. The false promises, and boasting. God, the boasting makes my head hurt.
I started to hide my true self, and tried harder to become what I thought I was supposed to be.
We had the same conversations, with the same photos and same comments from the same interceptors into our relationship.
I saw the bullying. The passive aggressive comments and in some circumstances, the not so passive.
I saw a lack of self-awareness about the amount of times I said something, and then I saw it in others.
And I began to see this relationship was driving me insane.
So I left. I left because I have to live my life, not narrate it for them, waiting for them to like it or add commentary.
I left because I am in love with something else.
I left because I can’t be what I think I should be.
I left because clicking a like button isn’t actually a real connection or communication.
When I told my therapist (who is very anti social media) I had left Facebook for good. She asked, ‘Why didn’t you stay offline the last time you left?’
I answered, ‘I was worried people wouldn’t be able to contact me.’
She looked at me intently and tilted her head. ‘And how many have contacted you in the last week since you left?’
And then we laughed. Like, really laughed for a long time.
‘None,’ I had said. No one noticed I had left.
God it was funny. My hubris had kept me available, as though I was so important and must be available to my ‘friends’. In fact, no one gave a fart.
Since that week I have had a few calls from friends and emails. I had a gorgeous morning with one of them yesterday. It was so nice to share information in the flesh. We had things to talk about and we tripped over our words to ask questions of each other and share the news.
And time. So much time to create. I have been writing poetry again. I have a new outline for a book. I wrote a short story for my new publisher that my editor adored. I have watched movies, and read books and stopped viewing my life as a status update. I will post book news and writing stuff on my Kate Forster
Excessive Facebook updates and checking, according to the European Congress of Psychiatry is an urge driven addiction. Addiction to likes, comments, shares, attention.
As I said to Facebook when I left. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I need to change. I don’t need to be liked. I just need to live.’
And as my therapist has said to me often, ‘Your love affair is with writing, and it loves you right back. Don’t waste time on anything else.’
I can’t flirt with Facebook anymore. We’re done. I’m out.
It feels good.