July 16, 2013
It's a date that will go down in history for me—the day I erased all my Facebook data.
I haven't yet completed my mission of what some consider "committing virtual identity suicide." If you go to my profile (which technically still exists) you'll see a generic blue and white profile picture, alongside a header image that says, "I'm sorta, kinda QUITTING Facebook. Why? Facebook brings out the worst in people. It's not me, it's you." Aside from that, I have no status updates, and the only timeline event is the day I married my best friend and changed my marital status. I got a little sentimental and sappy, so if anything had to stay until I deactivated my account, that was going to be it.
It wasn't easy...
It took me a few months to individually delete each post I made and every photo I posted. I had signed up in 2006 but didn't become regularly active on the platform until 2009. During that time, I amassed a bunch of crap. Unfortunately, Facebook doesn't offer a "clean slate" option without permanently deleting your account. I'm not ready for that step… not yet.
You see, I've been taking a little time between (what I call) "erase day" and disconnecting all of the third-party services which used Facebook Connect to log me in. You may have seen these around the web, with the option to "Log in with your Facebook account." If I'm going to sever all ties with this account, then I need to overhaul my networks and sites to make sure I don't accidentally lock myself out of anything.
I'm also an admin of two place pages, which makes it hard to actually delete my account since I have obligations to fulfill. I'm currently working out a solution to remedy this situation, but inevitably, I'm getting closer to erasing myself from Facebook completely.
So why did I decide to become a "quitter?" It wasn't the privacy settings or layout changes that prompted my decision. It was my Facebook friends.
Scroll back with me to nearly one year ago.
I have 600+ Facebook friends; 200, give or take, from my hometown, roughly 200 from my college years and the rest accumulated through various friends and jobs I've held over the last six-to-seven years. I logged in an average of two-to-three times a day, scrolling through the newsfeed, discovering what was posted and see who was up to what. When I wasn't at my computer, I'd often check in with my phone. It had become a part of my daily routine, like having coffee in the morning or brushing my teeth.
It didn't really bother me that sometimes I was too busy looking at a screen to participate in life around me. It didn't even bother me that I only spoke to a select few of my Facebook 'friends' in real life. What bothered me was how I felt after each login session… The range of emotions covered the gamut: happiness, sadness, anger, humor, jealousy and the worst, judgment (usually directed at myself). It wasn't long before I began to question why I felt this way.
I knew deep down there was something bothering me about Facebook, but I couldn't put my finger on that one thing. It finally became clear on voting day of all days. Honestly, November 7, 2012 and election days in general are days we should all just avoid Facebook.
We've all had a time or two when we've been ashamed by what some of our "Friends" have posted. I have enough common sense not to participate in any discussions that day, but ashamed doesn't even cover how I felt after reading hateful words supposed "friends" posted to each other.
Then at the end of the night, I found a gem. Hidden in the hateful posts, buried deep in the negativity was this status update…
I have written and deleted about five status updates in the past hour. Some of you should have done the same…
– R. Nicholson
It was not only perfectly timed for the current situation—it was a wakeup call. It made so much sense and captured how I felt about Facebook in a nutshell. Thus, the idea of getting out was born.
I began to form a theory.
When I was in high school, the ultimate goal was to get out of dodge. It was a chance at a fresh start, an escape. The promise was you could leave that part of your life behind to become your own person and experience the life and world around you. When you graduated, you had the opportunity to sever all ties and shape yourself into the person you knew you could be or that you were growing into.
In past generations, this was true. People moved on after high school. They got jobs, went to college and developed a sense of respect and courtesy once they became independent. They had to learn to function in a society, more often than not, without their friends continually at their side. They had to make new friends. They had to play nice.
The difference between then and now is simple. My generation and the others following didn't get that opportunity. When we left our parents' homes and our high school cliques behind, we didn't really leave them. We took them with us digitally and continued to interact with them, thus never being able to become who we really are without them. Mean girls stayed mean, cocky boys stayed cocky and no one really got the chance to grow up. We didn't have to. No one realized how much is too much sharing or when to hold our tongue.
When my 10-year reunion came around, I didn't go. I didn't need to. I saw those same people every single day in my newsfeed. I knew who got married, who had babies, who got fat, who got skinny, who had a nice job, who made a lot of money, who had their husband get a vasectomy (that was a real post in my feed and continued with follow ups about the poor man's healing process—but over-sharing is another story).
I saw the same people talking about the same things they did years ago, and that's when I became fully aware no one matured. Sure, we made new friends along the way, but it was really just adding the same people with the same problems to an already over-saturated social media page. I decided it was time for me to grow apart from the people who were socially in the same place they were more than a decade ago. When it boiled down to basics, I still had that 'get out of dodge' feeling.
I'm done here.
Between November and July, I erased my last posts from my timeline and have since been working out the kinks. In the time I've stopped going to the site, I've missed out on some critical moments. There was the time a friend got engaged. Instead of learning about it instantly, I found out much later when we met for lunch and I saw the ring. I asked when it happened, and her response was, "Well, it's been on Facebook for a week!" Then there was the time one of my dearest friend had a baby. Instead of getting a phone call or a text from her husband, they only posted it to Facebook. I found out when I realized I hadn't talked to her for a few days and decided to give her a call. That too was met with an, "It was on Facebook" response.
I don't fault myself for missing these moments. Of course I'm sad, but I can't help but blame those who have stopped sharing in real life. There is a whole world outside of the social network sphere that the rest of us still live in. After I said goodbye to Facebook, I realized what and who was important to me. I discovered more about who I really was and learned whom I wanted to keep in my life and whom to let go of. I discovered it was important for me to make the most of life outside of Facebook. And if those I've surrounded myself with don't want to make sure I'm still a part of their lives, then it's probably for the best. I've made a conscious effort to stay in touch with those I want to, and if they don't reciprocate, I'm chalking it up to relationships that should have ended at an earlier stage in my life.
The best part about breaking my Facebook bonds is how I feel about myself. I don't worry about what others think about me as much as I used to. I feel completely liberated and free to actually enjoy normal experiences without making sure I let everyone know.
I didn't quit social media.
You can still find me on Instagram and Twitter. I like how Instagram allows me to restrict who follows me while offering the ability to not follow others without them really noticing. On Twitter, I've managed to follow totally random, yet inspiring people and avoid the drama that came with Facebook. The best part is the limitations Twitter puts on how much can actually be said in one post. The majority of people I encountered on Facebook haven't really gotten into Twitter, I don't feel obligated to follow anyone back, and I enjoy the random conversations that take place there.
The big delete button day for my barely there Facebook profile is slated for November 7 of this year. It seemed only fitting to end the saga one year to the day I began reclaiming my life.
I haven't figured out how I'm going to do it yet. I don't know if I should wait until midnight, have a party or just let it happen and slip away into the past. All I know is that it's going to feel really good when I walk away from it completely, saying, "So long, and thanks for all the fish."
I'm out, peace.
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