Ohhh Facebook...you dirty, sneaky thing! You’ve weaseled your way back into my life, again! How in the name of God’s good greenish-brown earth did I allow you the space back into my thoughts, the room on my phone, the time in my life?? I know better, right?! I mean honestly, I SOOOO know better! I'm smarter than this (at least I want to be), but somehow I fall for your twisted manipulations and devious snares over and over again...year after year!
I let you nestle in. I even encouraged you to get all warm and cozy with that little app of yours...the one that I installed on my phone. It's so absurd that it's silly, because I learned long, long ago that you were never going to be the loving, faithful friend I wanted you to be, but it's like a reoccurring case of amnesia; I somehow forget how unhappy I feel with you in my life. And like a high school boyfriend, I've broken up and gotten back to together with you more times than I can count, but still I drag myself back; believing with each rekindling that I’ll be stronger than before, more healed up, more easy-breezy, content with myself and way less insecure...basically above all that envy B.S!
But, surprise of all surprises, turns out I’m not! I'm very much NOT above the B.S.
‘Confident me’, woke up this morning feeling unusually cheerful. I cuddled with my two littlest girls for about five seconds before growing tired of getting poked in the face, then swung my legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed my phone and...instantly checked in with you (Facebook). And then there I was, suddenly gripping the peaks of comparison, traversing those ridges like a sherpa. Whyyyy!!
Almost instantly, all that delight I woke up with...my delight in this uncharacteristically warm and sunny April day, ripe with possibilities, my abundance of time with my sweet and beautiful kids and the unimaginable gift of having a husband who cherishes me… all that delight, so quickly drained from me as if I’d sprung a leak.
It could have been that story I breezed over about the secret shame of the "poor" middle class in America...I'm a member of the middle class (I think) and sometimes I feel shame. Or maybe it was the random string of pics from that friend of a friend (whom I've never actually met) but at a gazzillion weeks pregnant, she still looks beyond gorgeous in a bikini on some Hawaiian beach. It also could have been that massively long winded birthday benediction posted about that life transforming day in history; the day that 's0-and-so' entered the world. It could have been any number of things really.
Truth be told Facebook, maybe you bear some of the blame, because after all you do sort of suck, but whether it was that one bad news article, those brazenly perfect pictures or the blubbery birthday message, today the issue was mine. I should have had my battle gear on...but I didn't. I laid down my sword. Honestly I haven't even seen it in a few days. I think I've mostly been using it as a paper weight. My shield...who knows where that was...it was nowhere near me and I think I tossed my helmet on the floor last night. It probably landed not far from yesterday's socks.
In the end, that oh so familiar (Facebook) ache, served as a tremendously valuable reminder to me that I can't lay down my armor, jump into a battle field and expect a bunch of pleasantries. The bombardment of meaningless noise that elbows its way into my thoughts and assaults my identity is constant. So, who am I beneath the roar of the world?? This morning...I definitely waffled a bit on that one, but had I geared up I would have remembered a few things. I would have remembered that I'm happy being me and I kind of like who I am, but even more important than that...I'm loved, I'm wanted, I'm chosen, I'm original, I'm whole, I'm blessed, I'm forgiven and I'm free! None of those statements are mere fountains of empty possitivity but a proclamation of God's unchanging truth (for each of us).
So, Facebook, I sort of wish I could break up with you, but without you I wouldn't keep up with my friends from out of the country or those sweet relatives in other states who might as well be living in another country except that you, Facebook, keep us close(ish)...and then of course there's that whole blogging thing. The irony of it all isn't lost on me. But next time I'll be stronger, not because I'm above the B.S. but because I know I'm not. And knowing my weakness helps me to keep truth extra close so I can be truly strong.
(photo courtesy of http://www.thelocalq.com/blogs/searchlights/2012/04)
Writer and fellow traveler on the road of life.