Facebook is hard for me.
You spelled “Bau5” incorrectly, dumbass.
But not for the same reasons that Pinterest is hard for me.
And thanks to some helpful feedback, Pinterest isn’t really that hard for me anymore.
I still would never have gone there on my own, mind you, but I don’t hate it so much anymore.
It isn’t quite as scary.
Facebook is hard, but not because I’m afraid of it.
I find that Facebook is hard because I don’t know how to find that middle line, that happy medium, that sweet spot.
The place where I can be true to myself without losing the people I love in the process.
Facebook is hard because my family makes it hard.
I’ve been blaming Facebook for this, but really, it isn’t their fault I belong to nutty relatives who refuse to overlook my so-called flaws and who won’t give me any room to breathe.
It’s not Facebook’s fault that I’m a round peg in a square family, a Liberal in a nest of vipers Conservatives.
I shouldn’t hold Facebook accountable for problems they merely helped bring to light.
Don’t shoot the messenger, right?
So yeah, Facebook is hard because my family makes it hard.
These rules apply to my family, but only in an alternate universe, on the 7th Wednesday of the 13th month of the year.
I came to this realization only ten minutes prior to writing this. I’m still reeling in the aftermath of my epiphany.
I don’t hate Facebook. I hate that it has pushed shadows aside and forced me to face the REAL problems in my family. I hate the way my family makes me feel.
And I hate that I have to choose between (a) biting my tongue and accepting the abuse versus (b) lashing out in self-defense and losing my family forever.
Because my family does that — cuts you off. Them peoples know how to hold a grudge, and it can last months, or even years.
Indeed, Facebook is hard because my family makes it hard.
Here’s how I woke up and realized I need to stop blaming Facebook. And it’s all thanks to my son. My wonderful, inspirational, forgiving, generous, kind, loving son. I’ve called him my hero since before he was born, as he gave me a reason to get my shit together. Boy is almost twenty years old, and he is still my hero.
How my son taught me that Facebook is hard only if you let it be:
My son asked why I kept updating my inbox. I told him I was waiting to see if I’d get a response from someone. Then he wanted to know what kind of email I hoped to receive. I told him,
“There’s this who encourages students to avoid separating their personal life from their writing life, because supposedly family and friends will be your biggest cheerleaders and will naturally overlook any posts they don’t like.”
My son’s eyes bulged at this and he exclaimed,
“Not our family!”
I felt someone validated that my own child — really an adult, not a child— shared my perception. I told him I agreed, and that my family doesn’t overlook anything I write. I explained to him my method of utilizing Facebook:
a. which is NOT set to private, where my family and friends and strangers can all see what I write, but where I am NOT free to voice my own opinion or ideas, where I am called out publicly, spanked and humiliated if I cross any lines. I seldom mention my blog there, and only speak of my writing in an abstract way.
b. where I am free to talk about anything I want with little recrimination, where I publish my blog posts and exchange dialogue with others of like mind, where my voice isn’t chained by those who would hold me down. I talk about my writing and it is such a respite.
My son thought this made a lot of sense. But we both thought it was sad that I have to maintain two separate personas. Some friends once asked me why I don’t just “unfriend” the offending parties.
When I told my son about that suggestion, he guffawed.
“How do you unfriend your own MOM?”
Exactly. Although, I reminded him, she and several others had NO PROBLEM unfriending me.
Yeah. That happened.
And it hurt just as it was meant to. Which is why I don’t unfriend people. I don’t ever want to purposely cause that kind of ache. It’s hateful and cruel and I won’t do it. If I really find I’m offended by someone’s material, I merely change my settings so that their posts don’t show up as often, or at all.
My son asked why my mom can’t do that — change her settings so that my “horrible” material doesn’t show up and offend her — and we both cracked up at the idea.
Likewise, we could no longer pretend that my mother wasn’t an idiot.
My mom doesn’t know how to do much on Facebook.
She knows enough to post about how much she loves Jesus.
She knows enough to comment on things that make her angry.
She knows how to follow her grand-kids and comment on every single one of their status updates — gah! Can you imagine, as a teenager, how UNCOOL it is to have your freaking grandmother all up in your business on a regular basis?
*shudders*
[As an aside, I’d like you to know that I’ve mentioned to my mom that she might not want to comment on her grand-kids’ status updates because they might find that embarrassing. But it’s one of those things where, if you have to explain it to someone, they just aren’t going to get it.
Her response?
“If it bothered them, they’d tell me!”
Um, no they wouldn’t. Think about it, Mommy. What decent person is going to tell their own grandmother to stop commenting on their status updates? Seriously. How would that conversation even go? ISN’T. GONNA. HAPPEN. Not when the grand-kids in question are such sweet and loving individuals.
And now you guys see what I’m dealing with here. But I digress.]
The more I thought about the whole Facebook issue, the more irritated I became. I told my son how mad the whole thing made me. He laughed some more, and said,
“I’m glad they don’t come unglued on me the way they do on you!”
*BAM*
That’s when it really, really hit.
The unfairness of it all. Because he is right. Nobody EVER publicly calls him out for the shit that he says. They automatically forgive anything he posts. They overlook things they don’t agree with. The let him be. He can talk about parties or alcohol or drugs and no one cares {or no one cares enough to tell him so}. He can post controversial issues and not get slammed for his views. He can talk about racism and sexism and gay rights and basically ANY.FUCKING.THING he wants.
And no one touches him.
He’s safe.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy my son doesn’t get harassed by my noo-noo relatives. And if I sound jealous of him, it’s only because I’d like to receive the same treatment from my parents that he gets with no questions asked. It’s not that I want my family to start hating on him or anything. I would just like it if they stopped hating on *ME*.
So I asked my son,
“Why do you think they overlook your posts but harp on mine? We post a lot of similar material.”
He answered immediately,
“I’m a guy.”
*BAM*
Another epiphany.
My hubz and I were talking a few nights ago about how unfair it is that some people get forgiven while others {read, *ME*} get taken to task for their brass behavior.
Examples:
1. One guy is a real douche, and everyone in the family knows it. He complains, straight to the giver’s face, about every gift he receives. He is judgmental and arrogant and knows everything even if he hasn’t had any experience or knowledge in that particular area. No kids, but yeah — this guy is full of parenting advice.
I’m the only one who doesn’t let him get away with that shit. Nobody talks to me that way, and nobody talks to my loved ones that way. Even if he is related. I don’t give a shit. Don’t be a dick in my presence if you don’t want to be told that you’re a dick.
But everyone else?
- “That’s just the way he is.”
- “It’s just his personality.”
- “You can’t change him, so you might as well learn to deal with him.”
2. One guy is obnoxiously verbally abusive to his wife. He tells her to shut up all the time, calls her fat right in front of everyone, and is just really mean to her. I look around, like, “WTF is going on here?” and then I tell the guy to stop talking to my friend like that before I pop him one in the nose. And everyone acts like *I’m* the one who’s doing something wrong. Why?
- “That’s just the way he is.”
- “It’s just his personality.”
- “You can’t change him, so you might as well learn to deal with him.”
God damn you people.
If you can forgive these assholes their behavior and excuse it like it’s nothing and perfectly normal… THEN WHY DO YOU ALL ACT LIKE I’M SUCH A BITCH?
In tears, I asked my hubz why some people just automatically get their bad behavior overlooked, but then I am not extended the same courtesy. I asked why people don’t say about me,
- “That’s just the way SHE is.”
- “It’s just HER personality.”
- “You can’t change HER, so you might as well learn to deal with HER.”
My poor, sweet hubz knew the answer immediately.
“You’re not a guy.”
So basically, everyone in the world {including my family} is floating in a bag of sexist pricks.
AND THEY DON’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW IT.
Facebook is hard for me.
But the reality is, LIFE is hard for me.
PEOPLE are hard for me.
SOCIETY is hard for me.
AMERICA is hard for me.
RELIGION is hard for me.
SEXISM is hard for me.
[…] Bitstrips win at Facebook and now I love Facebook. […]