Social Network Anxiety
http://www.phetasy.com/articles/254/1/Social-Network-Anxiety/Page1.html
Bridget Phetasy
By Bridget Phetasy
Published on 09.09.11
Soul always knows what she’s doing, long before I do. For instance, I begin checking out of the Matrix prior to actually physically leaving a particular societal idea of structure. I delete everything
off my Facebook account and deactivate it—this time for good. I delete
every ridiculous Tweet I’ve ever twitted into the ether—the only reason
I now keep my account is to keep someone else from squatting on it and
saying ridiculous things in my name. I’m pretty good at doing that on
my own, thank you very much. I realize these functions appeal to that
which is most human in us—hence their overwhelming power and
popularity. I’ve just never been one to follow the herd, or rather,
flock with the trend.
Why I Left The Facebook
Soul always knows what she’s doing, long before I do. For instance, I begin checking out of the Matrix prior to actually physically leaving a particular societal idea of structure. I delete everything off my Facebook account and deactivate it—this time for good. I delete every ridiculous Tweet I’ve ever twitted into the ether—the only reason I keep my account now is to prevent someone else from squatting on it and saying ridiculous things in my name. I’m pretty good at doing that on my own, thank you very much. I realize these functions appeal to that which is most human in us—hence their overwhelming power and popularity. I’ve just never been one to follow the herd, or rather, flock with the trend.
People keep asking me: Why did you leave Facebook? Do you hate America or something? Well, here is the short answer: I have absolutely zero interest in social networks any more. The long answer goes something like this: The truth is—other than from an anthropological perspective—I never really did. I get nauseous just thinking about what these sites constantly reveal to me about myself--primarily my deepest insecurities. My party “friends” are always at the coolest party. My family “friends” are always breeding, engaging, marrying. My hipster “friends” are always hipper than thou, complaining about their writing deadlines or having to pick just the right outfit for **sigh** yet another premiere they have to attend. My comedian "friends" constantly have the perfect witty, hilarious, ironic 140-character tweet to their thousands of “followers”. In a world where everyone is screaming: “Look at me everybody!!!” ….who is listening? Well, it turns out, I am. But I hate what I hear, whether it’s coming out of my virtual mouth—or yours.
I was eating Sun Chips the other day, reading the ingredients, and on the bag is the Facebook icon and a message: “Find us on Facebook!….” with the link to the SunChips page. I find the whole thing pathetic. Especially when major brands, corporations and celebrities are STILL begging for your attention, even after they have it. Even while you sit on a beach eating a bag of their chips. In this new digital race for eyes, we’re all whores.
At one point during Burning Man, a space designed specifically to get outside of social constructs such as Facebook, email, phones, money, etc…as a photographer tries to organize a group photo, a girl in the crowd announces, “Just remember no nipples are allowed on Facebook.” I march my topless self right out of the picture. To have someone so conscious of Facebook at a moment of pure liberation from such forms is not only lame, it’s a depressing buzz-kill.
The powers-that-be at Facebook would like to brainwash us into thinking we have to play by their rules and can’t live without them by constantly referring to their organization as a “utility”. That's funny, because my other utilities like water, electricity, gas and google cause me anxiety when I don’t have them. I cannot say the same for Facebook; it may be useful, but it’s not necessary. Although I understand and appreciate Facebook and Twitter as invaluable utilities for connecting people, organizing revolutions and finding lost high school sweethearts--I find that, on a whole, having these “utilities” causes me more anxiety than anything else.
It’s not Facebook’s fault I’m human. I can’t help but compare myself to everyone. I’m not as pretty as Princess of the Party. I’m not as funny as @funnymcfunnyson. I’m not as maternal as Mom of the Year posting her baby’s Adorable Baby pictures. I’m not as “successful” as Elitist Hipster Douchebag with his fancy website and legions of ass-kissers. In fact, I don’t really fit into any of the boxes I see around me. I am left feeling like I have felt my entire life—like an outsider looking in or maybe an insider looking out. Either way, at this point, I’m very comfortable with my Lone Wolf role. (Not coincidentally, every Lone Wolf I know has one thing in common: they don’t have a Facebook page.)
Some people have nailed the Fine Art of Self-Promotion online. Good for them, they enjoy it and obviously feel no shame about the process. They have seamlessly figured out how to “be themselves” online with none of the sick feelings of ridiculousness and narcissism that seem to come included with my experience of it. Despite the ability to place a perfectly self-deprecating, self-aware joke about the nature of promoting myself, ultimately, I suck at it. I deeply LOATHE self-promotion on every level of my being and hate myself for wasting precious resources wanting the world to pay attention to me. This resentment shows through in my sad attempts to play the game. A game I continually lose because my content isn’t compelling enough or I break some unspoken rule about the way the game is played and annoy people or I’m not funny enough or maybe everyone can just sense my inner turmoil and low self-esteem. Whatever the reason, social networks all leave me feeling one way: I am not enough.
Anyone who reads any of my other stuff may realize that I have plenty of problems with my poor self-image I'm trying to work out here on Phetasy without adding a newsfeed of millions of other people’s uber-cool lives to my daily dose of self-hatred. Maybe it's just me and everyone else has superior self-esteem; they never compare themselves to anyone, they never feel a nagging sense of worthlessness and they never get attached to results like how many followers blindly follow, how many comments they get or how many “friends” they have. Maybe I’m the only one who feels completely sketched out by the amount of precious thoughts, photos and pieces of our soul we freely give the leader of Facebook to sell on our behalf.
I understand all of this is more of a reflection of me than of Facebook or Twitter. Nevertheless, checking out of Facebook has been nothing but a relief. I don’t really care what all my “friends” are doing. The friends I do care about, I contact via text, phone and email on a pretty regular basis. Facebook strengthens that social persona we spend so much time crafting for the world to see. It is a starving beast that is fueled by our collective Ego, never satisfied, never full—always wanting you to feel less than in order to continually feed it more. More about your thoughts, desires, dreams, likes, dislikes all raising the value of The Facebook by billions of dollars. In the country that is The Facebook, your preferences are its most valuable commodity. Behind closed doors they are bought and sold like currency with every status update giving more power to an increasingly dangerous megalomaniac.
I'm not interested in your favorite color. I’m interested in seeing the world through your eyes. I'm not interested in your favorite book. I'm interested in WHY it's your favorite book. I don't care who your favorite band is--I care when and why their music saved you. I don't care if you're a fashionista--I am most interested in getting to know the human behind the social media mask—in person, not online.
Hitting the road again is my second step to making these kinds of deeper connections. Phetasy was my first link to that which connects us all—the world wide web—she will be my last. Since I only have time to devote to one outlet to the world—I want it to be the purest, most honest, unfiltered reflection of who I am: the good, the bad, the ugly. Not the polished, the self-conscious and the vain. Here in the backwaters of the interweb on Phetasy, I can truly be myself...naked, honest and humble--without having an ad for a yoga retreat pop up directly after I post that thought.
People keep asking me: Why did you leave Facebook? Do you hate America or something? Well, here is the short answer: I have absolutely zero interest in social networks any more. The long answer goes something like this: The truth is—other than from an anthropological perspective—I never really did. I get nauseous just thinking about what these sites constantly reveal to me about myself--primarily my deepest insecurities. My party “friends” are always at the coolest party. My family “friends” are always breeding, engaging, marrying. My hipster “friends” are always hipper than thou, complaining about their writing deadlines or having to pick just the right outfit for **sigh** yet another premiere they have to attend. My comedian "friends" constantly have the perfect witty, hilarious, ironic 140-character tweet to their thousands of “followers”. In a world where everyone is screaming: “Look at me everybody!!!” ….who is listening? Well, it turns out, I am. But I hate what I hear, whether it’s coming out of my virtual mouth—or yours.
I was eating Sun Chips the other day, reading the ingredients, and on the bag is the Facebook icon and a message: “Find us on Facebook!….” with the link to the SunChips page. I find the whole thing pathetic. Especially when major brands, corporations and celebrities are STILL begging for your attention, even after they have it. Even while you sit on a beach eating a bag of their chips. In this new digital race for eyes, we’re all whores.
At one point during Burning Man, a space designed specifically to get outside of social constructs such as Facebook, email, phones, money, etc…as a photographer tries to organize a group photo, a girl in the crowd announces, “Just remember no nipples are allowed on Facebook.” I march my topless self right out of the picture. To have someone so conscious of Facebook at a moment of pure liberation from such forms is not only lame, it’s a depressing buzz-kill.
The powers-that-be at Facebook would like to brainwash us into thinking we have to play by their rules and can’t live without them by constantly referring to their organization as a “utility”. That's funny, because my other utilities like water, electricity, gas and google cause me anxiety when I don’t have them. I cannot say the same for Facebook; it may be useful, but it’s not necessary. Although I understand and appreciate Facebook and Twitter as invaluable utilities for connecting people, organizing revolutions and finding lost high school sweethearts--I find that, on a whole, having these “utilities” causes me more anxiety than anything else.
It’s not Facebook’s fault I’m human. I can’t help but compare myself to everyone. I’m not as pretty as Princess of the Party. I’m not as funny as @funnymcfunnyson. I’m not as maternal as Mom of the Year posting her baby’s Adorable Baby pictures. I’m not as “successful” as Elitist Hipster Douchebag with his fancy website and legions of ass-kissers. In fact, I don’t really fit into any of the boxes I see around me. I am left feeling like I have felt my entire life—like an outsider looking in or maybe an insider looking out. Either way, at this point, I’m very comfortable with my Lone Wolf role. (Not coincidentally, every Lone Wolf I know has one thing in common: they don’t have a Facebook page.)
Some people have nailed the Fine Art of Self-Promotion online. Good for them, they enjoy it and obviously feel no shame about the process. They have seamlessly figured out how to “be themselves” online with none of the sick feelings of ridiculousness and narcissism that seem to come included with my experience of it. Despite the ability to place a perfectly self-deprecating, self-aware joke about the nature of promoting myself, ultimately, I suck at it. I deeply LOATHE self-promotion on every level of my being and hate myself for wasting precious resources wanting the world to pay attention to me. This resentment shows through in my sad attempts to play the game. A game I continually lose because my content isn’t compelling enough or I break some unspoken rule about the way the game is played and annoy people or I’m not funny enough or maybe everyone can just sense my inner turmoil and low self-esteem. Whatever the reason, social networks all leave me feeling one way: I am not enough.
Anyone who reads any of my other stuff may realize that I have plenty of problems with my poor self-image I'm trying to work out here on Phetasy without adding a newsfeed of millions of other people’s uber-cool lives to my daily dose of self-hatred. Maybe it's just me and everyone else has superior self-esteem; they never compare themselves to anyone, they never feel a nagging sense of worthlessness and they never get attached to results like how many followers blindly follow, how many comments they get or how many “friends” they have. Maybe I’m the only one who feels completely sketched out by the amount of precious thoughts, photos and pieces of our soul we freely give the leader of Facebook to sell on our behalf.
I understand all of this is more of a reflection of me than of Facebook or Twitter. Nevertheless, checking out of Facebook has been nothing but a relief. I don’t really care what all my “friends” are doing. The friends I do care about, I contact via text, phone and email on a pretty regular basis. Facebook strengthens that social persona we spend so much time crafting for the world to see. It is a starving beast that is fueled by our collective Ego, never satisfied, never full—always wanting you to feel less than in order to continually feed it more. More about your thoughts, desires, dreams, likes, dislikes all raising the value of The Facebook by billions of dollars. In the country that is The Facebook, your preferences are its most valuable commodity. Behind closed doors they are bought and sold like currency with every status update giving more power to an increasingly dangerous megalomaniac.
I'm not interested in your favorite color. I’m interested in seeing the world through your eyes. I'm not interested in your favorite book. I'm interested in WHY it's your favorite book. I don't care who your favorite band is--I care when and why their music saved you. I don't care if you're a fashionista--I am most interested in getting to know the human behind the social media mask—in person, not online.
Hitting the road again is my second step to making these kinds of deeper connections. Phetasy was my first link to that which connects us all—the world wide web—she will be my last. Since I only have time to devote to one outlet to the world—I want it to be the purest, most honest, unfiltered reflection of who I am: the good, the bad, the ugly. Not the polished, the self-conscious and the vain. Here in the backwaters of the interweb on Phetasy, I can truly be myself...naked, honest and humble--without having an ad for a yoga retreat pop up directly after I post that thought.