There are times I feel like I have a dependency, as if I have no control over things my brain craves in an almost physical sense. Facebook. Yes, Facebook. I swore it off for a while and it was not hard to do. Not hard to do cold turkey. I did the same with cigarettes ten years ago.
But, then, sampling just a little of Facebook after a period of abstinence reconfigured my neurons and made it impossible to limit myself to small doses. Oh, I did limit my use for a while, but it was not long. After I returned for a visit, before many days passed, I was unable to leave for long. I had to go back. It’s absurd, of course; to think one can get so wrapped up in a social media website. But it seems to have a root in reality. And I hate it. So, what’s the difference between dependency and addiction? I must look into that. In the meantime, I confront it head on. The first thing: reconfigure my blog so that it does not auto-post to Facebook. Small steps.
I hate Facebook. Not for what it is, but for what it reveals about some people, maybe for what it might reveal about me. It shreds one’s facade and lays bare an inescapable neediness. A need to be seen, recognized, appreciated, known. It’s not so much a need for attention as it is a thirst for acknowledgement, a desire to be acknowledged as relevant and meaningful. That may be the problem, of course; we can’t all be relevant and meaningful; some of us are just here, taking up space.