or How Social Media Broke Me

I just removed myself from social media. Yup. I up and deactivated my Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and YikYak (whatever that is) accounts. Well, not entirely deactivated. My work requires that I maintain contact through Facebook groups, and, frankly, vanity makes me keep my Twitter account (I was retweeted by a bunch of Justin Bieber fans awhile back). So, five minutes ago, I logged out of these sites on my computer and deleted the applications off my phone.

And I had the instant need to tweet about it.

I resisted social media as long as possible—and thank God. If my middle school years had been documented for the world to see, I probably would not be the same, semi-respected person I am today. But once I embraced the social network, I fell head first through the addiction of getting “likes.” Of having your words “favorited” by your friends and followers. In real life, a friend may laugh or nod along to something you say, but on the Internet, you have a searchable record of those virtual agreements and “lols.”

I practiced. I honed my online craft. I had a Klout score that put me in the top 5% of social media users! My awareness of internet presence affected my real life interactions as well… but not in the bad way I know you’re assuming from my connotation. I started caring what people thought of me. Not vainly, either, but in a social, “I have to be cognizant of others” kind of way. And I wanted them to like me, if only so they didn’t hate me. Maybe, if they liked me, they would show it by tapping a screen that had my face on it. Maybe I could make someone’s minute through an online joke.

Twitter keeps me up to date. Instagram makes me feel beautiful and loved. Snapchat clarifies my sarcasm while texting. Facebook? I produce my show through Facebook! I keep updated on news, food, and events through Facebook (one of the reasons I can’t completely destroy it). All of these feelings and informational tidbits sit at my fingertips, no matter where I am. As I’m learning in my classes, however, convenience comes at a cost.

Because I know we all love listicles, here are the reasons the cons outweighed the pros in my case:

“It seems like you’re having fun” is another way of saying, “You post pictures of yourself smiling in California. You must be having a great time, and there’s no evidence to the contrary.” One of those sentences that total stick-in-the-mud folks like to wave around is “That person’s life online is a lot better than their real life.” And here I go waving my muddy stick, because I’ve come to agree. Just because I’m smiling in a picture doesn’t mean I’m smiling after the phone is put away. That’s a personal matter, though. Really, who cares if you know about my life? Which brings me to… My life wasn’t mine anymore. In the spring of 2013, I spent a really lovely day playing hooky. I went to Scottsdale, Arizona for a doctor’s appointment that lasted 15 minutes and spent the rest of the morning sipping coffee, reading Flannery O’Connor, and browsing art galleries. It was one of the first “Me” Days I had in a while, and I loved it. As I walked through the back streets of Old Scottsdale, I told myself that I would keep my “Me” Day to me. Obviously, I broke my promise and am publicly writing it on the internet now. Not only am I breaking that promise now, but I broke it that same day. I went back to school, pulled into the parking lot, saw a friend, and told him about skipping class to go urban exploring. Then I blogged about it four hours later. Who knows if I would have broken that promise in the 90s or 80s or “the simpler times” when I didn’t have an outlet that would listen. All I know is that when I go to an event, the phone comes out and I view the world through its 8 megapixel camera so that someone else can see it, too. There are some scary things I’ve let my phone do to me. My phone knows where I am right now. I’ve told it that it can use my name to advertise on its behalf in exchange for 10 more levels of Candy Crush. I used to (really, I still do) accept every term handed to me, for convenience sake. But as I learn more and shed my naive belief that the government and Google actually care about me, I can’t help but think that I’ve handed my life over to an algorithm. But hey. At least everyone knows I got to level 182 in Flappy Bird. I couldn’t take the Huffington Post’s vague, click-bait titles any more, so I took it out on all of my devices. Honestly, I’m just really sick of seeing uplifting teases meant to make me click on a website that will push me through a slideshow of advertisements just to tell me Emma Watson made obvious statements. I could have just unliked them. But it felt like the last straw.

I’ve now gone one (mostly) social media free-day since writing out this list, and it’s actually refreshing… if a little stressful. Every time I had to wait on someone, or something (i.e. my computer to boot up), I reached for my phone, and the absent hole where Twitter used to be. I kept wanting to check Facebook—what if Annie posted about a meeting? What is the best place to get a milkshake in Los Angeles? But instead of scrolling through a feed, I pulled up a blank note and typed out a little idea that had been stuck in between the folds of my gray matter. My finger is itchy, but my mind is feeling freer.

The next logical step is probably throwing my iPhone out the window and buying an old Nokia, but I know that, for the time being, I’m not going to do that. I love my apps. I need them to properly do my job. And sometimes I just need people to know I look good today.

Thanks for reading my 5,600 character tweet.