You thought I was joking, but I left Facebook on October 18, 2011. Shut down my account, and waited for a tsunami of grief that never came. I had feelings around it, but I gained so much from leaving Facebook that it was worth it.
Before walking away I squandered untold hours trolling the ‘Net for funny videos, quotes, and stories that I could share with my Facebook friends. The loss of my privacy mounted. Every intimate detail that I shared created an incentive to reveal more, like a bumbling strip tease.
My Facebook friends — fifty percent were people in places that I lived years ago. Without FB I would never talk to them, and had no reason to now that they’re married with kids. Perhaps the twain should never meet. Facebook is no respecter of propriety or boundaries.
Facebook forced me into intimacy with folks with whom I wouldn’t mix. It also told me too much about their pets, diseases and food. People I didn’t care for were up in my grill forcing me to block their posts, which felt un-friendly. The site didn’t allow for friendships to find their natural level.
Half a dozen times a week, I asked is this person a frenemy. Once friended, it was impolitic to de-friend, and doing so guaranteed the demise of any real-life friendship. Facebook raised troubling questions. Without FB, would this person be my friend? Would a real friend post what she posted on my Wall? Who really has 928 friends?
Genuine friends of mine on Facebook were elusive. The few people from whom I wanted to hear never posted, leaving me wondering if they’d blocked me. People who I cared about never joined or quit, like my brother whose example I followed.
The day I closed out Facebook, the exit page showed photos of Facebook friends. The captions said, “Are you sure you want to quit Facebook? Sandra will miss you. Joey will miss you.” What a lie! If FB wanted to make me change my mind, they should pick friends I cared about, not Sandra and Joey who wouldn’t notice my mug missing from their friend lineup (no offense to them).
I guess Facebook doesn’t know everything, but the cheap tactic made me more contemptuous and eager to close my account, which I did. I felt sad for twelve hours, that was the extent of the angst I felt walking away. I threw myself into other projects — things I’d put off for months because Facebook was sucking up my time — and soon forgot Facebook altogether.
Since leaving Facebook I’ve regained ten to fifteen hours per week that had been lost. When others complain about Facebook, I smile quietly. It showed who my real friends are. People who care about me show up, and so do I. Facebook created the illusion of closeness.
Ironically my new employer asked me to open a work Facebook account. I did so reluctantly, only one month after closing my personal account. However, I use it strictly for work and post no personal information. I’m still clean and sober from Facebook.
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