60 Days Without Facebook

February 4 - 5, 2015

It has been just over 12 hours since I deactivated my Facebook account. There are so many reasons I need to do this. All of them are good, but none of them seem valid at the moment.  This may sound pathetic, but making a break from Facebook cold turkey is like getting over the mental aspects of an addiction.  Since I woke up this morning at 6am I've reached for my Kindle, laptop and cellphone more times than I can count.  Thankfully last night I removed the Facebook app from my phone and Kindle to lessen the temptation.

This is what I've realized in the last 4 hours...

1) I AM addicted to Facebook.  Not in a joking "Oh, I'm addicted to chewing gum" or "Oh, I couldn't live without Starbucks" kind of way. This is no joke.

2) I feel completely and utterly isolated from everything. I talk to virtually everyone I know on Facebook. I read funny blogs on Facebook. I read my news on Facebook. I find recipes on Facebook. I talk about my kids and track their milestones and funny antics on Facebook. Virtually the ONLY place I socialize is on Facebook Seriously?  Get the hell outta here!  No, I'm serious when I say the isolation I have felt in the last 4 hours has been eye-opening

3) I have wanted to update my status at least 5 times today already. I was watching About A Boy (you know, spending my time in valuable ways) and one of the characters on the show is a crunchy mom.  She has a neighbor that is constantly making fun of her crunchiness, and to be fair, she is pretty over the top. I love the show. It's lighthearted and cute.  Anyway, he heard maracas coming from the apartment next door he said,

"What kind of hippie voodoo is going on in Granola Land today?"

I would've made a status update about that.

I want to talk about Bobbi Kristina Brown.  I want to understand. The news surrounding her started days before I deactivated Facebook, but it's been emotional for me to the point that I really just couldn't process the right words to say. I cried for days when Whitney Houston died.  I didn't cry because I loved her all that much. Her music is memorable to my generation and she had an amazing talent, but the reason I cried is she died because she was an addict. Addicts dying scare the hell out of me. I can't process it rationally because there is nothing rational about it. I know firsthand unfortunately that there is absolutely nothing rational about addiction. I'm still not ready to talk about her daughter. It's just too much to wrap my head around. I would've probably talked about all of this on Facebook today. I would've posted a status update about how not ready I was to post a status update about it.  O.o

I probably would've talked about how miserably I slept last night, and been tempted to tell someone that my daughter peed in the potty for the very first time yesterday. Instead I'm telling these things to myself.

4) I absolutely don't know what to do with  myself and I feel pathetic.  It's going to be a long 60 days unless I figure out something to do to fill the time.  I'll get there, but doing this a week after knee surgery was probably not the best time. to isolate myself from pretty much everyone I normally interact with.

5) These are the things I felt and went through when I stopped drinking.

6) One day at a time...