Friday, September 21, 2012

Facebook Funk

Several years ago in this paper, I wrote a column entitled “Friends” detailing my then recent introduction to Facebook, and my ambivalent response to it. While I liked connecting to old friends, I found I didn’t need to hear much about these old acquaintances’ daily lives after the initial catchup, and I realized many of my facebook friends were not actual “friends”. Additionally, privacy concerns made me hesitant to share much information of my own or to use apps or join groups. In all, I found myself checking in unenthusiastically about once a month.

So when I read that a recent university study found students who were heavier Facebook users were more likely to think other people’s lives were happier and better than theirs, I laughed it off as the technological equivalent of “keeping up with the Joneses”. Apparently, people who are constantly viewing others’ fabulous photos and hearing about others’ amazing children, adventurous travels, and social experiences were getting more depressed about their own lives in comparison. But as a therapist, I know that nobody really knows what’s going on behind closed doors (or in this case, beyond the computer screen). ”Don’t they understand?” I said to anyone who would listen, “People only post the good things. They aren’t posting their real life, just the highlights. You can’t compare your real life to others’ highlights!” And with that, I shrugged the whole thing off.

But over the past few months, a funny thing happened. As my children were getting older and a bit more independent, I found myself spending more time waiting in pickup lines or at home quietly supervising activities rather than participating. My iPhone and iPad (acquired well after my first Facebook column) helped alleviate the boredom, and with them Facebook was just a touch away. I checked in several times a day instead of a few times a month, and sent out friend requests to everyone I knew, hoping that maybe I could build my real network of local friends. I even posted a few times – everything from humorous anecdotes to fun facts, sarcastic complaints to requests for help. I was probably still only on Facebook for 5-10 minutes a day, but I was definitely much more aware of what everyone else was doing. And then I started comparing.

One acquaintance posted an adorable photo of her new baby EVERY DAY and I became a little overfocused on the child’s wardrobe which also seemed to be different every day (EVERY DAY!). I began thinking about how my babies only wore onesie pajamas for the first year of life, most of them stained with spitup. I wondered when I’d ever get my second child’s baby book up-to-date and if I would forget the cute things she said before I wrote them down. I worried about the relatively low mass of videos of child number two, and whether I should be uploading more...and so on.

I noticed that the other local parents sure did have a lot more social outings than we did, and what gorgeous vacations they all took, while it seemed we would NEVER travel anywhere but Florida for the rest of our lives. I wondered how one family got in to that exclusive show and mourned my own fabulous-long-ago-past as an advertising executive who had access to all of the latest events (note my mind’s exaggeration) but was now just experiencing the daily cycle of wake-breakfast-kids-housework-dinner-bath-bed- repeat.

I zoomed in on the family photos of that middle school acquaintance with the “C” average who is now running her own company, raising four kids AND looking that great? And I marveled at how that quiet girl from high school got so many comments on her post, while I didn’t even have any “likes”.

As my mind continued to ruminate through negative self-talk about my boring, unsocial, stay-at-home, average life, my mood started dropping and I began to fall into my very own “Facebook funk”.

It took me a while to realize what was happening, but when I did, I knew I had to log off. I check Facebook less often now, and never when I’m feeling down. I post a bit, but try to avoid counting responses. I admit that sometimes I scroll quickly past updates from those I envy, and I have eliminated some updates from view. But most of all I remember that everyone’s life has challenges and they probably won’t be posted.

It is easier now for me to support others in their good times, sending congratulations and being generous with my “Likes”. Of course, when someone drops their Facebook Front with an unpopular post like “I am NOT ready for pickup time.” I LIKE it – twice.

Follow The Rules

I have always been a rule follower. Not only do I obey all laws, but I also follow societal rules that hold no threat of jail time. I stand in a long line when I have just one item, I wait at red lights even if they are interminable and there is no other car around for miles, I don’t park in the school drop off lane, I toss coupons after the expiration date, I return items within 90 days. I wear a cocktail dress to a cocktail party and a gown when “black tie is required”. I don’t stand up in airplanes when the seat belt light is illuminated. And so on.

This is why I am a good baker, but a terrible cook. I can follow a recipe to a tee, but don’t ask me to improvise with random ingredients and no measuring spoons. I can’t.

It just never dawned on me to question most rules. If there is a way something should be done, that’s how I’ll do it. If there is a law, regulation, or restriction, I abide by it. And if the rule changes, I’ll change. I meet expectations.

Yes, I get frustrated when the rules are irrational, but I usually let others iron out the reasoning, and assume all the obvious questions have already been answered. But now that I have children, I find myself spending half my day trying to answer those “obvious” questions and often falling short.

For a while I thought my kids questioned everything just to distract or delay, or maybe just to drive me crazy. Some questions, like “Why do I have to go to school?” or “Why do I have to wear a seatbelt?” are easy to answer authoritatively even if education, future opportunities, and hypothetical safety may be vague concepts to understand (and often refuted with more questions such as “But why would we get in an accident?”) Of course, since my answer is unwavering on these topics, they also tend to be the things least questioned. I need to remember that.

More often the questions hover around the hazier areas of cultural norms and expectations that may have developed over time. And frequently, that history may be the only reason these “unwritten rules” endure: “Why does the fork have to go on the left side of the plate?”; “Why do I have to wear THIS?” (uniform/suit/dress shoes…); “Why can’t I sleep in the guest room?” I am learning that my parents’ ole standby, “Because I said so!”, just doesn’t fly with my brood.

So I try to come up with a more rational answer, and I am finding that for many things I just can’t. Why can’t we sit down in the elevator? I can tell that my husband enjoys when our children question the norms even when he is the one being questioned, because he appreciates their creative minds that won’t take things at face value, that won’t back down, that dream of new solutions. And isn’t that how you want your child to be?

But I am struggling with this dilemma. How do I encourage my children to follow the rules (for the benefit of myself and society as a whole) while also encouraging them to “think outside the box” (for the benefit of themselves, and maybe society as a whole)? How can I tell them that it is okay to act against the rules in some situations but not in others, to question some authority but not all, to consider doing things differently than everyone else but still fit in? And how do I encourage them to lead rather than to follow, while still maintaining family leadership myself?

History has shown that we need people out there questioning the rules and breaking them in order for changes and improvements to be made. Women’s rights, civil rights, children’s rights, domestic violence laws, and so many other important societal changes all came about thanks to people who refused to maintain the status quo. And I’ll bet they gave their parents a tough time too.

My father used to say, “I don’t answer ‘why’ questions.” I thought it was just his clever trick to make us think more creatively about how to get our answers, like starting a sentence with “How come…” or “What would happen if…,” but now I think it was simply a way for him to avoid admitting to the confusion, hypocrisy, and uncertainty that parents (like most humans) often experience. I don’t really know for sure, because I never thought to ask why.