I’m sick of it all.

Social-media-communication

I’m sick of social media.

I’m sick of perfectly curated photographs and carefully constructed personas.

I’m sick of scrolling, and likes, and hearts, and hahas, and wows, and favorites.

I’m sick of elaborate pregnancy announcements, and 800-like engagements, and incredible before-and-afters and endless go-fund-me’s, all while I struggle to figure out what my “plan” should be, or whether it’s worth even having one when life always seems to intervene and destroy it anyway.

I’m sick of everything being a photo shoot, and pictures of perfect yoga poses in idyllic locations, and hot dog legs on beaches and photo editing apps that make human beings look creepily moonlit, like the Veelas from Harry Potter.

I’m sick of the highlight reel of everyone’s lives; the equivalent of a braggy family holiday newsletter, but instead, one that blasts off every goddamn day, causing everybody looking on to feel inadequate.

I’m sick of the depression, the insecurity, and the addiction to positive reinforcement, where I feel like a failure if one of my articles doesn’t perform well.

I’m sick of everybody “doing it for the ‘gram” and ignoring me while I speak because they need to check their feeds…

And of restaurants who put food on artfully collected slabs and in weird containers, so their patrons will share social media pictures.

I’m sick of friggin’ mason jars.

I’m sick of the non-ironic usage of hashtags while I’m interacting person-to-person, and even more sick of the fact that I do it too.

I’m sick of shameless clickbait, and flawlessly-crafted viral videos.

I’m sick of algorithms, and formulating shitty headlines to get more clicks, more engagement, more bullshit.

I’m sick of writing thinkpieces.

I’m sick of thinkpieces, generally. And thinkpieces about thinkpieces. And thinkpieces about thinkpieces about thinkpieces. And the entire circle-jerk of opinions that fire off just for clicks, just for ad revenue; just to agitate us social media addicts for money.

I’m sick of playing into it all with my outrage; my engagement.

I’m sick of every handpicked media story-of-the-moment being beaten to death within a 12-hour cycle — before I’ve even had a chance to process what it all means or to collect my thoughts to write my own goddamn thinkpiece.

I’m sick of everybody feeling like they need to make a public statement after every single noteworthy event happens — it’s like millions of miniature self-run PR departments kicking off into gear every time there is a mass shooting or huge political happening, or a celebrity dies.

I’m sick of feeling like I need to participate in this minute-by-minute word vomit, and of the fear that I will never be a successful writer if I don’t.

I’m sick of performing, and of feeling like I need to become a “personal brand,” and seeing writers and creators I love and respect having to feed the content-creation beast 24/7.

I’m sick of being so drowned in voices that I don’t even recognize my own anymore.

I’m sick of being “on” all the time.

I’m sick of writing “sorry for the delayed response” every time I don’t reply to someone within twenty minutes.

I’m sick of my aching elbow and hand reminding me that I spend my life staring at a screen; for work, for social life, for news, for entertainment.

I’m sick of only feeling fully alive every once in a while, when I am out of cell service range and am finally free of all the expectations and “conveniences” of modern life.

I’m just sick of it all.

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Why I Hid Over 100 People from my Facebook Newsfeed

I’ve never been one to defriend people on Facebook. It seems so final; so cruel. “You didn’t make the cut.” Although, every couple of months, I see someone on my feed dramatically announcing that it’s time to cut back: “Spring cleaning,” they say. “Time to get rid of the deadweight,” they say. “See those of you who matter on the other side!”

All of this hoopla is inevitably followed up with a “Congratulations for still being my Facebook friend!” a day later, as though we were ever really worried. As though we feel deserving of a congratulations for still having the privilege of being included in their apparently miserable newsfeed. (Side note: I can’t help but notice that these same people, going off about being SO-DONE-WASTING-THEIR-TIME-WITH-THE-BULLSHIT, are also most likely to post meaningless drivel. And partake in vaguebooking — they LOVE them some vaguebooking, right? Sigh. I digress.)

Anyway, I’ve always seen defriending is a callous act. Like saying, “I no longer choose to be connected with you, even in a superficial way.” Because, let’s face it, most of our Facebook friendships are NOT meaningful. We’re holding on to a memory of a person that maybe once meant something to us, or maybe didn’t. We’re being polite. We’re “friends” because we’re obligated to be; there’s a social contract in place. We’re “friends” because we grew up together. We worked together. We played basketball together. We had peripheral friend groups in college and kind of hated each other, but didn’t want our beef to blow up into a massive group-fued. Plus, hello, stalking?!

We all have our reasons.

Perhaps I don’t defriend as a policy because the ONE time I ever did, that person happened to see me out running errands and MOTHERFUCKING CONFRONTED ME. I kid you not. And speaking of social contracts, somebody needs to tell homegirl that when you’re defriended and you see that person out on the streets, you save face by deflecting eye contact and getting the fuck out of there! Have some pride, woman! Instead, Ms. Ex-Friend waltzed right up to me and said, “why did you defriend me on Facebook? You have like, over 1,000 friends. Do you hate me that much?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that, while I don’t hate her as a person, I do hate everything she stands for. And seeing her spew not-so-thinly-veiled hate on my feed is just not what I’m about. It kills my morning mojo and leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I didn’t tell her this, of course, because SOME OF US actually abide by unwritten social contracts ahemmm. I apologized to her, and said it must have been a clerical error. Thankfully, she didn’t know what that meant (and good thing too, because frankly, that was a terrible excuse), and she blindly accepted my half-assed excuse.

That day, I vowed to stop defriending people, because I couldn’t stand the fact that I had hurt someone with the stupid click of a button.

Also, because I’m a sucker with too many feels, who honestly believes that people can change any time. I always, always see the best in people, and think their brightest day is just around the corner. “Maybe she’ll come to her senses and realize that racism is a real thing that she’s perpetuating and stop posting these hateful memes.” (Yes. I truly believe this after school special shit. Who’s the REAL idiot in the scenario? I’ll let you be the judge.)

After that confrontation, I tightened up my privacy settings, created a “limited profile” group, wherein folks couldn’t see my statuses and I couldn’t see their stupidity clogging up my feed. It was a win-win.

But I’ve been noticing recently that my feed is a verifiable circus of idiocy, ignorance, misogyny, racism, and overall hate. And the worst part is that all of it is masked in “humor.” And I’m using “humor” very lightly, because what these people post is generally not fucking funny at all. Inappropriate, offensive and subversive views CAN be funny, sure. But if you’re going to express those views, they better be hella funny. Louis CK-level funny. Pineapple Express-level funny. Exposing-a-layer-of-irony-I-never-even-knew-existed-level funny.

Instead, I get THIS on my newsfeed:

abusememe

Good one! Domestic violence is SUPER funny.
When do you take this show on the road?!

Not to mention the truly trashy drama/airing of dirty laundry, the bitching, the vaguebooking, the bragging, the image crafting, the ignorant political posts, the oversharing. The memes. Every 5 minutes with the memes.

And the worst part is that I found myself swept up in it all. I became part of their drama. I was gossiping to my real life friends (mutual “friends,” of course) about my fake Facebook friends. Like THAT was deserving of our time. It became like my own sick reality TV show. I couldn’t stand these people, but I couldn’t look away.

Last week, I was talking with an old, dear friend about my fascination/anger with so many on my newsfeed. I finally acknowledged, for the first time, how much time and energy I was wasting paying attention to and arguing with these people, or… abstaining from arguing with them (which for me, can sometimes be even more of an energy suck). Then, my friend said the words that changed my view of my Facebook feed forever:

“The worst part is that every bit of energy spent on them is taking away from other things.”

Other things, like: being a good friend/family member, socializing, reading, exercising, playing banjo, writing, making the most of the incredible city around me,  or even just… I don’t know, actually relaxing without mindlessly scrolling.

I was letting their hate and their unhappiness (or excessive happiness) with their own lives drag mine down.

I hid over 100 people from my feed the next day. I’m continuing to hide folks on a daily basis. What’s left? A much shorter, and more pleasant newsfeed. My sanity. Just a little more time in my day.

I’m happier and less stressed, and those who truly matter to me (or at the very least, are a value-add to my Newsfeed) are still there. And I’m rooting for them, for real. Plus, I don’t feel like I’m missing one thing.

I highly recommend lightening your load by hiding, not defriending, the deadweight on your feed. Your body and mind will both thank you as your cortisol levels simmer down, and you remind yourself of what’s important.

And on the off chance one of those hidden should ever confront you for “never liking their posts” on the ‘book?

There’s always the old clerical error excuse.