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[av_heading heading=’DALMING | Bye, social media (Week 1)’ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=”]
BY ROMA GONZALES
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Wednesday, July 5, 2017
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IT’S ALMOST two days since I deactivated my Facebook and Instagram accounts, and the sun still rises on the east.
There are, however, 29 days left that I must sustain this experimental abstinence. I’ve actually gone way much longer than 72 hours on my previous attempts — only to find my thumb tear my paper will with a mere scroll. You see, this is a premeditated move, an explosion that was slowly building up from an awareness that life was slipping away.
The first time it began to dawn on me that social media might actually be a wolf in a sheep’s skin was when a friend working as a nurse in the Middle East complained about how being online seemed to make her emotionally unstable. Being confined to a building that serves both as her accommodation and workplace almost 24/7, the Internet seemed to be a great means of escape. However, all the “awesome” posts of friends and family back home made her homesick and…even lonelier.
Since then, I tried to be sensitive of the things I post up to the point of changing the settings to prevent her (and other possibly lonely friends abroad) from seeing the beach getaways and the group dates and all sorts of the fun, which in the arms of Facebook, appeared more fun by seven-fold. I did not want to rouse feelings of envy and jealousy in her who was thousands of miles away from home, stuck somewhere in an ocean of sand and porklessness.
Then she closed her Facebook and eventually, her Instagram.
It took several attempts for her to finally quit. The most successful method was changing her password into a really complicated one, something she can’t memorize, writing it on a piece of paper, and hiding it into the darkest corner of her closet. She admits to checking her accounts from time to time a few times a month, and only to see what friends and family are up to.
Back then it seemed to me that quitting social media applications was as extreme as digging a basement for a probable apocalypse. Then I started noticing how friends would seem to compete in a subtle showdown of posts — who’s been traveling more, who’s trying out new dishes, who’s doing more cool stuff, who’s hitting more goals be it “body” or “relationships” or “squad.”
Eventually, I felt myself being siphoned into the same game, resisting as hard as I can to quell the voice that was trying to scream (via Facebook or whatever) “I’m here! I’m here! I’m cool, too!” What we thought was a binding link began to feel more like a popularity contest, a bulletin board of bruised and fragile egos wanting to be healed with virtual validation. Some people go to extreme lengths such as fabricating stories.
It’s amusing and disheartening how social media is making us generally unsocial. If we’re being honest, we know how some posts can make us feel embittered and more isolated. We are growing to dislike some people, not because they are necessarily evil, but because their carefully-curated-too-happy posts summon feelings of general inadequacy. We resent friends who do not show appreciation for our thoughts or pictures because, well, they haven’t liked this post yet and it’s been up for three hours already!
“Am I trying to inspire or just brag?” “How will these uploaded pictures affect those who will see them?” “Why hasn’t so-and-so liked my post yet?” “Do they hate me? Well, I don’t like them too.”
Gosh. It’s sad. It’s tiresome.
It’s been almost two days and I wasn’t really an addict to have crashed with withdrawal symptoms right now. Yesterday morning, the friend from Saudi congratulated me, told me quitting social media “cured” her anxiety and feelings of depression. Whatever. I’m still pining for Instagram. I’m still worried people will never find out that I can be interesting. I’m still afraid of missing out. But I’m holding up pretty well — so far. (rr_gonzales316@yahoo.com/PN)
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