About three months ago, I decided to do a trial separation
from Facebook. I wanted to see what life would be like without the daily draw
to check up on the happenings of all my friends—people I know in the flesh,
friends who’d moved away, family near and far, and acquaintances related to
writing and volunteer work.
It was difficult at first. (There’s a reason some call it Crackbook.)
I felt like I was dumping people on a grand scale, worse than any teen-aged after-crush
breakup. Once or twice I may have leaned over to read my daughter’s laptop
screen while she was viewing someone’s wedding photos, or reading a funny
status update. And I even accidentally clicked on the Facebook link in my
browser several times, like the times I drove home to our old house, long after
we’d moved, on auto-pilot. Yikes! I knew I was addicted. But could I really
beat it?
As with any addiction, my symptoms lessoned with time. Not
being online as much created more mental space, more quiet, more free time. I
fulfilled my goal to read two novels just for fun this summer. I even read a
couple of nonfiction titles, painted all our exterior doors, did some gardening, and
hosted a whole parade of family who came to visit. Grocery shopping and cooking
likely took more time over the past few months, too, so I don’t even know where
I would have fit in electronic socializing.
It was so much nicer to sit face-to-face, across the table
from real people. Sometimes people don’t come across very well on the net. Short
little snippets of comments, brief updates, random quotes. In person, around
the table during and after a meal, conversation ebbs and flows and it’s easier
to see expressions and hear tone of voice and know the intent of the person
speaking. Laughter is loud and hearty—a reaction to off-the-cuff jokes; not an
LOL two days later.
The best and most notable change was that I actually grew to
miss some people because I didn’t look at a photo of them on Facebook every
day. I had to find my phone number holder (it’s an old wooden recipe box that
holds recipe cards, one for each family). I had to dial a person’s phone number
and be prepared to spend half an hour to catch up because other than Facebook,
when was the last time I’d seen the friend? Almost a year ago? Ridiculous.
We had a good talk and made plans to get together. I wonder if anyone missed
me on Facebook?
These last three months showed me I don’t really need
Facebook. I can control the time I spend on there and make more of an effort to
contact friends in real life.
But I’ve decided to reactivate my account for one reason:
it’s incredibly convenient. I don’t have everyone’s phone numbers in that
recipe box after all, and there are some friends I won’t see otherwise. And
professionally, it’s much easier to network using the site.
After reactivating my account and announcing my return, I got a flurry of ‘missed you’ messages. It was such an odd sensation. Like I
was suddenly in a room full of friends.
Facebook is great for connecting with those not here, but it
should never replace seeing real local friends.
See you on Crackbook.
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