My friend Holly used to say, “Myspace” is the devil. A few years ago, it was the social media rage and also the way one found out things one didn’t want to know. In her case, she discovered the gentleman she was dating had a serious live-in girlfriend. After being jerked around by said gentleman, she swore off Myspace forever.
I used Myspace mainly to post while either drunk or severely depressed (sometimes both). Myspace was a little more wild-west than Facebook has become. Most of my “friends” were twenty-somethings who were partying harder than I was and probably just ignored my bouts of self-loathing.
But Facebook is a whole ‘nother creature. Facebook reminds me daily that I suck. HARD. Someone is always going out, going on vacation, eating at a nice restaurant, . . . hell, getting a haircut or pedicure, AND going to work. As much as the thought of having to wake to an alarm clock almost sends me into a full-blown panic, I am envious of these people and their responsible ADULT lives. They have houses and cars and children and connections and can go out to dinner and only have two glasses of wine. I drool over their photos of their lovely yards and tastefully arranged furniture.
But what really kicks me in the gut is posts from folks who are working at something which they love–the artists of all kinds, the educators (even though teaching high school is MY idea of hell), those folks with the mysteriously techie jobs. I remember when my life revolved around my job, and as much as it truly drove me to drink, I also felt like an adult. It paid crap for all the work I did, but I worked damn hard, when I made it to work, and I had my own place.
And the relationships. Most of the time it is amusing. I have seen more than one person change spouses since I joined Facebook in 2008. I once changed my relationship status to “open relationship” to see if anyone would believe me, and also because it seemed kind of sexy. A friend recently married and I wanted to cry the night of her nuptials. Not so much because it wasn’t me getting married, but because I wasn’t there (yes, she invited me, but I knew I couldn’t afford to go). I realized that it was horribly self-centered of me that I couldn’t be happy for this amazing woman who had finally found someone worthy of marrying.
And the truly HIGH SCHOOL part of Facebook? Realizing you’ve been defriended. Yes, I realize it’s “unfriend,” but I prefer defriend. Most of the time its by someone who only knows me marginally, but it still makes me nuts. I try to imagine what I might have said that drove someone to such an action. Of course, one night two years ago, in a drunken rage I defriended half of my Facebook friends because I decided no one cared about me and that I was only keeping the people who bothered to talk to me. I think I realized later that I had accidentally changed my settings to where my posts weren’t visible to most people! The point is, I defriended over 100 people in one night and still haven’t refriended them all because I can’t remember what I did.
So am I doing anything about my Facebook envy? Well, I WAS trying to drown it in beer, but I can’t even afford that just now. I am trying to turn some of this envy/misery into anger/action so I at least start seriously looking for a job. I’m writing about it (duh) so that I can at least know that I am WRITING! The smart thing would be to AVOID Facebook for a while but I have a love/hate relationship with it. When I am on Facebook, I feel a tiny part of ME (not Charlotte the daughter/aunt/sister) surface, and I really miss her. She only comes out when I leave the house to spend time with friends and that happens only once or twice a year now. When I am on Facebook I am reading about everyone else’s drama instead of staring at this house of horders wishing I could throw about 3/4 of the shit in here away. On Facebook people respond to what I have to say; downstairs even when I repeatedly say, “Are you listening to me,” I get ignored. As a result, I talk to children more than I do to adults. The kids think I’m interesting.
Part of me wants to erase this post now, but hell, I haven’t thrown myself a pity party in print in a while. And plus, I really do need to start blogging regularly, and I’m not really feeling smart enough to write about the other ideas I had. After all, I did spray the stove top with Pledge tonight and not realize it until I was almost done wiping!