In all the hustle of this modern parenting world, I did what my kids thought was impossible, and I gave up Facebook for Lent.
Pathetic as it was that my 8 and 6-year-olds thought I wasn’t strong enough to stay off Facebook for 46 days. I promised them I would. To be honest, I was checking it up to 6 or 7 times a day… so my own addiction was scaring me.
My mind had been feeling really cluttered. At the end of the day, I would lie in bed and my heart would race and I couldn’t figure out why. I found myself thinking about things I saw on Facebook (sometimes about friends, sometimes about people I hardly knew) and I would worry.
I found myself yearning for the 80s– the time when I grew up. A simpler time. A less connected time. My mom didn’t have Facebook to distract her. She didn’t pin cupcake recipes on Pinterest. If she wanted to get away from us, she went into her bedroom or went to the bathroom and shut the door or “rested her eyes” on the couch. She read magazines. Real paper magazines. She picked wild blackberries with us. She didn’t have her face buried in a phone. She made phone calls with a corded phone and talked to real people on the other end.
I wanted my kids to remember me doing things with them, not seeing the top of my head as I post their accomplishments on Facebook.
So, here are the things I did when I spent 46 days off Facebook…
I judged myself less. Ok, it’s sad and embarrassing to admit, but I can’t help it. I, unwittingly, compare myself to other people. It’s human nature. I see friends posting pictures of their perfectly primped kids in their name-brand attire and think my kids are raggamuffins. They never match. Their faces are usually dirty and they are usually wearing hand-me-downs. So be it. Without the chance to see other people’s “perfect” kids, I didn’t feel so bad about my own (adorable) dirtballs.
And while I spent less time criticizing myself, I also spent less time thinking about how others were judging me. I was less aware of my own presence outside of my house. The only people’s judgement I needed to worry about were sitting at my kitchen table, and it felt nice.
I took less pictures of my kids. Without my phone constantly in hand, I didn’t have it at the ready to snap their pictures. Without the instinct to post their cute little mugs on Facebook and Instagram, I found myself just being with them instead of capturing what they do (and sharing it with my friends and family). I still took pictures of them, I just didn’t know what to do with them. They sat on my phone. I texted them to my husband. I made them my screen saver. I don’t think there is a whole in the internet where my kids’ pictures used to be.
I got my news from Brian Williams. Sure, I had to wait until 6:30 pm, but if it were newsworthy enough, Brian told me about it. It made me realize how much “news” is really just social media buzz. Brian Williams didn’t tell me what was #trending, he told me what was happening… in our world, not just in my news feed. It really broadened my perspective on the world. I used to feel like Facebook made me feel more connected to people, but instead it makes me feel more isolated and pigeon-holed. Facebook’s new algorithm chooses what and who it wants to show me and as a result, I feel like I am in a box. Staying off of Facebook forced me to seek out my news instead of hearing it 2nd hand (and from the same people). Besides, if something on Facebook were really important (like Grumpy cat turning 2), the Today Show would tell me about it.
I didn’t read more books. I just didn’t. I thought I would have more down time, but it turns out I never trolled Facebook as a singular activity. It was my distraction– my escape. I was never fully focused on Facebook. I did it as a multi-task (if you can call it that.) I justified doing it to take my mind off the mind-numbing thing I was doing (like watching the same Peppa Pig episode). I realized that Facebook only served to numb my mind more. I was never fully focused on either thing, Peppa or Facebook. Without the chance to check Facebook while watching Peppa Pig, I turned off the tv and made the kids play Candy Land instead.
I was less frustrated. I have been writing a lot about yelling at my kids less. I found that when I wasn’t trying to do 2 things at once, I was less annoyed with my kids. If you haven’t read Orange Rhino, go check her out. She’s amazing. She’s not perfect (just like the rest of us), but she’s trying to yell at her kids less and she’s inspiring as hell. Thanks to her, I’m trying to pay more attention to what frustrates me, and being on Facebook while trying to parent 4 kids is definitely high on my frustration meter!
I had thoughts and I kept them to myself. Usually, when something funny happens, my first thought is to tell it on Facebook. I have an inner-monologue of self-deprecating Facebook posts in my head at any given time. During the first few weeks of my fast, things popped into my head and I itched to do something with them. I couldn’t believe that I had a thought I couldn’t share it with my 560 Facebook friends. After a few weeks, the itch went away. I didn’t feel the need to encapsulate a funny thought or life experience into a Facebook update. My experiences were mine and mine alone. I kept them to myself or occasionally shared them with my husband– if he could ever hear me over the chaos at the dinner table.
Charlie turned 9 and I didn’t publicly wish him a happy birthday on Facebook (which he isn’t on anyway, so it’s really kind of ridiculous). I didn’t lament over “where the time had gone” or tell everyone what a smart, wonderful, thoughtful little boy he is growing into. I had those thoughts. I just told them directly to him, instead of announcing them to the internet.
I thought about autism less. The day Finn was diagnosed with autism, Facebook stopped being fun for me. I started following a bunch of autism bloggers and advocacy discussion pages. Many of them have really helped me understand autism and how to advocate for Finn’s needs, but now 3 years later, I can’t stop reading the discussion pages and bloggers (even though I have a pretty good understanding of Finn’s autism). I see an article or discussion post and I can’t look away. What if it’s something I need to know? Well I just spent 40 days not knowing what the discussion boards were saying, and I think I’m ok. I think Finn’s ok. Instead of thinking I needed to do something “autism specific” (like more OT or horse riding therapy or melatonin for sleep or more organic foods), I just listened and responded to my kid. I focused less on his behavior being a by-product of his autism and more on it being a part of who he is. Every behavior does not need to be shaped and modified. He is a little boy. I’m sick of thinking about him in terms of IEP goals.
I didn’t take 1 selfie. Well, duh. What the heck would I do with a picture of myself? It seems rather redundant. Without the need to share what I am doing with the rest of the world, why would I need to take a picture of myself doing it?
I didn’t take 1 personality quiz. Perhaps it’s a sign of my age, but so many of the posts in my newsfeed were about people taking personality quizzes (“What Gilligan’s Island character are you?” or “What does your music collection say about you?”) I don’t really care. I don’t care if you are Ginger or the Professor. And I don’t really care if having a Biz Markie CD coupled with the Beatles’ White Album makes you an “eclectic dreamer with the propensity to bob your head.”
I felt less important. There’s nothing like a push notification on your iPhone to make you feel like you need to check it immediately. It’s a very inflated sense of importance. What if someone really needed me? What if it weren’t just a comment on a comment I made?
Lives could be hanging in the balance…
I was willing to take that chance.
If you needed me, you had to email me or actually, gasp, call (or text) me on the phone. Not many people did. And I’m ok with that. In this age of instant everything, I am OK with not being right at people’s fingertips. I took the Facebook app off my phone and iPad. Every few weeks, Facebook would send me an email and say, “wait, wait, you missed these posts from your friends…” But, in all, the “quiet” felt really nice. So nice, in fact, I have decided not to reload the apps on my phone and IPad. I am back on Facebook; although I haven’t posted anything. It feels weird to jump back in. So, I think I’m going to stick to checking it on the old-fashioned desktop computer. It’s less accessible that way. Just the way I like it.
On Easter Sunday, I announced that I had made it through Lent without going on Facebook, and Charlie said, “Oh, I forgot that Facebook existed.” I couldn’t think of a better reward for my fast! I think I’ll have to keep it that way.
I want my kids to learn that real friends are the ones you can see in person (at least every once in a while) and family is the most important of all.
Here’s to living a more real life…