I did it. I finally did it.
I deleted Facebook on my phone. I logged out from my computers. I announced on my account that I’d be elsewhere online until December.
I am tired of reading Facebook as a reflex. I am tired of wondering where my time went. I am tired of having to feed the Facebook machine like a junkie. I am tired of trying to find screentime limiting programs that worked. I am tired of experiencing my friends’ lives through a screen. I am tired of spending my energy generating content for Facebook instead of making something of real substance. I am tired of how I feel after spending a lot of time on Facebook: wrung out and sluggish.
A couple nights ago, I had one of those 2 AM epiphanies that made all the sense in the world: screw it, I want to delete my account. I eventually walked back from it, deciding that I really didn’t want to declare emotional bankruptcy on everyone else’s life minutiae, but I sure did need a break from it all.
So here I am. I’m interested to see if I go through withdrawal, if I suddenly become evangelical about my Facebook-clean life, if I just fill the gap in my time with something just as useless. At the moment, I occasionally pick up my phone, then wonder what I’m going to do with it.
50 days. Let’s do this.
Good on ya. I haven’t deleted Bookface, but you’ve probably seen it’s not really a place I frequent. I don’t hold open animosity against the platform (I leave that to JWZ), but I … just don’t think it’s ever been a place for me. The level of drama and stress it causes people around me has never been something I found to be desirous. It has a place as a way to reach people I otherwise have no contact with, but … it ain’t a daily driver for me by any means.