Dear Facebook,

                          First of all, I want to preface this with the old cop out: It’s not you, it’s me. Which may be the ultimate cliche, but it’s true. I’m just... tired of you. And it’s probably because, as with many destructive relationships, I’ve just given you too much time in my life lately. 

These days I’ve been realizing just how many things I have a tendency to overuse and it’s been a sobering time, and a time for big changes as I overhaul my diet, exercise daily, and try to do/eat/drink things in moderation, always moderation. But you? I always thought you were no big deal. In the summer I don’t have internet in my home, so my intake drops. But now? Living alone in the city with lots of time on my hands and no money? We were made for each other, Facebook, and I dived in: I scrolled through my news feed, instant-messaged friends, dreamed up snappy status updates and uploaded carefully-shot photographs (no blurry, badly-shot snaps for me!). 

But something changed, crept in as I was staring at my screen... I started feeling annoyed, Facebook. I’d felt it before, but this time it wasn’t going away. It was getting worse. 

Everybody’s status updates started to drive me nuts, even my dearest friends’. The perky optimist who just has to tell me how great her day is going to be, because she’s doing the same damn thing she does every day? Ugh. The people who ‘share’ yet another Buzzfeed list or inspirational platitude? Grrr. The proud mommies posting another hilarious thing their kids said or did? Spare me. The Vague-bookers, luring me in with their mysterious remarks: It’s all over, I’ve had it. Or, fuck you, you dick-head.  I started to realize that I could basically predict exactly what my friends were going to post because it was the same thing every day: there were the political pundits, the mommies, the performers (always with another gig or show to promote), the constant sharers and over-sharers... I want to emphasize that none of those things are intrinsically bad or boring or wrong. It was me. I just got sick to death of seeing it all. Facebook, you started making me dislike my friends and that’s not cool. 

Not to mention that you also started making me dislike myself. I found myself always wanting to be clever, to say something that would make people laugh and “like” me... I caught myself wondering how I could capture a moment in a pithy status update. I “liked” things and read things and made comments. I was an active, engaged member of the Facebook community. And then I was an addict.

So why did I stay? Why was I hooked?

I conned myself into believing that you fostered connection, Facebook, and that held me for a long time because I truly love feeling connected to my friends, my arts community  and my family. I spend my year living in 2 different towns / my extended family is in another country / there might be work somewhere down the line if I keep in touch with this person / I have a huge crush on this guy and Facebook is the way to benignly stalk him / I I don’t post something today people will forget I exist... The reasons were endless. Until they weren’t. 

I started feeling mad at myself for placing so much importance on people who I barely saw in ‘real’ life. I gave myself a talking-to: 

So what, some guy “liked” another funny thing you wrote. Is he banging down your door asking you for coffee? Nope. So what, you think the things that woman writes are funny and cool? Would you actually want to spend time with her? Do you have anything in common? Maybe not. Do you really want to waste another 30 minutes of your day reading the comments of some small-town tempest-in-a-teapot status update or getting sucked down the internet rabbit hole as you check out another article someone’s linked to? Can you afford to go to all these shows you get invited to? 

And the only question that really mattered: Can you afford to give this entity so much of your time? The answer, I realized was NO. 

You’re a great tool, Facebook. I love that there’s a network of several hundred people that I can contact and check up on when I need to. You’ve reconnected me with a number of old friends, and several of them are now people I hold very dear. You keep me in touch with the tiny northern town where I spend my summers, and when I’m up there you keep an eye on my city for me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the casual acquaintances I have online, but I want to spend more time with flesh-and-blood people, not commenting on the status update of someone I once did a show with ten years ago.  You have your place, but I refuse to let you rule my life any more. 

Today I made a choice NOT to visit you, Facebook, and it was hard. My fingers strayed to your name on my bookmark bar more than once but I stayed strong. I hope to have more days like this one, where I don’t check in with this shadowy group of people who call themselves my friends but whom I rarely see. Instead, I want more weekends like this one: a new friend crashed on my couch while in town, we bonded over (virgin) cocktails, talked ‘til late into the night and had breakfast together this morning before she caught the bus back home. And I thought, how lucky I am. Because I have so many  great friends. Because I will keep in touch with them by phone, by email, and yes, by Facebook. But I will stop being obsessed. I will take several days between visits to you. I will stop rolling my eyes over the same-old-same-old online suspects and spend more time actually catching up with people I love. 

I’m not breaking up with you, Facebook, but I DO need more breathing space. And it’s up to me to carve that out for myself. 

community.

Oh man, I was so lost, this week.
This virus came from nowhere and BAM! I was sick, and tired, and so, so low.
"Depression" is such a weighty word, but I could feel it knocking on my doors. I could feel my eyes stretched wide with sadness, with not letting tears fall. I would be walking down my wonderful street, and I could feel my face contorted in a sad, furious mask.
No one left emails. No one called.
I felt invisible. I felt like no one would ever love me again, and that all my friends had forgotten about me.

Yesterday I was raw. I saw the sun was shining so brightly outside, and I decided to walk a long, long way to meet a friend. The walk was longer than I expected, but it was very sunny. Along the way, I took some pictures. My mind was still spinning in a sad, repetitive cycle, but I could feel the sun, and the warmth of the day, and at least some of that got through.

Then I met a friend for lunch and had another walk. It was hard to feel so bad when the weather was doing this, and I was here:


By the time I went caroling last night, I was exhausted. Too much walking and the sad feelings were still there. So I went skating afterwards. Skating on top of a mountain. There were even reindeer up there!


I skated around and around (it's all I can do; I can't do fancy tricks or even stop very well, but by god I can skate in a circle), and after half an hour I was pretty much cured. Skating meditation. The bad thoughts had receded. Even though I lost my cel phone up there I was not reduced to a sniveling mess. And today I woke up and felt so much better inside my head, even though it was rainy and damp and I had to go caroling outside at a mall.
And then I came home and sang MORE carols with a bunch of friends and heard from some other ones online and felt less alone and much more loved.
It's hard, you know? I feel like a wimp saying this and I know there are so many larger problems all around and people suffering and I GET that, I really do, but this is my problem right now. You create this life with someone, you build a family. And then one of you might tear it down and you have to build something entirely new. Where there was once always someone there, for better or for worse, now there are holes. And sometimes you feel as though you might just fall right through one of those holes and there would be no one there to catch you.
So this is what I would say, in the end: I want to be brave enough to pick up the phone more, to make more plans with people I don't know well but want to get to know better. Even just send some encouraging online notes.
I want to be the kind of friend who's there to catch you, if you feel like you're falling. And I want to be caught, too.

on the flip side of fine

You spent the last week-and-a-half trying to keep it together-
arrival, move, jobs
and with the first real day off, your body shuts down.
Sleeping, to fight something that's wrong inside
something you did to yourself during the move, probably, lifting boxes
Over 4 months since the operation and you thought after everything you did this summer that you were fine, you were healed
But you're not

You turn down work so that you can rest, work you need because you're spending too much
(as usual)
Skip a rehearsal because of the cramping and fatigue; your excuses sounding feeble to the impatient person on the other end of the phone

The cat winds around your legs, stares reproachfully at you when she catches your eyes
You've been staring at that machine for hours, she complains
that one, or the one in the living room, the one that plays the same shows over and over all day
and it's true, you have, and even though you almost never spend your days like this, you feel guilty
and guiltier still for eating your own bodyweight in Ben & Jerry's

You signed up on a dating site for a laugh, scrolling through names and pictures through the day
and ended up deleting your account in horror
I can't do this

You went to a party last night
you drank too much because you were shy
You realized today
that you are distracting yourself
with boys, with friends, with booze, with anything
so that you don't have to spend time alone with yourself

It's after 1am
If you hit "publish", these bare, dark thoughts are Out There for everyone to see
and what does that make you?
Wouldn't it be better not to be so exposed?
This is a kiss-and-tell world; it's not classy or nice to lay it all out there
but
You are trying to make sense of it all
and to leave a mark, also
to say I Am Here
in happiness and in sorrow, for all to see
including yourself

And the best thing I can hope
is that I will re-read this in a while
and know how far I've come

Dear Thighs,
I'm sorry we got to this point in our relationship. It's ironic that you're the ones who are suffering now, because I've never had any problem with your size and shape. (The Stomach, on the other hand, is definitely in my bad books.)
First, you felt the burn when I started running, lo these many years ago now. But I have to say, you adapted splendidly when I showed no sign of stopping, and now you only punish me when I run again for the first time after too many days of slug-itude. You've done incredibly well as I get into a new training regimen that just may culminate in my running 21 kilometres, if I survive.

But Thighs, this fitness Bootcamp thingy I've been doing this week? The 45-minute torture session of hops and lunges and sprints and pushups and the dreaded (and dreadfully named) Burpees? The sessions that leave you (and me) barely able to hobble up the stairs? Well, take comfort in the fact that it was practically a freebie, and there's no way I can justify the indulgence of regularly-priced bi-weekly sessions with this guy.
But be warned: I may take some of his lessons to heart and spring 'em on you when you least expect it. There's nothing wrong with my memory, although my legs may be barely functioning.