I want to ditch Facebook. I think I would have significantly more peace of mind if I did.
Thanks to the female half of The Couple, I can’t use it as a relief valve for my inner state. “What if an employer sees you felt sad on July 25th?!?! Think about *your image*.” Yes, I get it. My image is the only thing that matters in this world. Nothing else.
So mostly I use Facebook to post and like memes. Because I can’t post anything that actually matters. I use it to keep certain people at bay. Ex-Stepmother thinks she can keep trying to contact me through FB, who knows what she’d do if that was gone. I post and post, hoping for that dopamine spike from people liking my shit. Kind of sad, but I never really got any of that from interacting with real people. I always hoped I would.
There’s a lot of things you have to be, a lot of things you have to buy, before people will be good or kind to you. Just being good or kind from the get-go means people will think you are dumb, easy to take advantage of, or boring. For years I was kind and nice from the get-go when I met new people, because that’s who I was, and watched with dismay how the people I met began to either sneer at me, or become disinterested. Only the very young or the naive say,”I don’t know what exhaustion or pain feels like, so I’m going to tell you to keep trying! You keep trying to find that needle in the haystack. I mean, *I’m* not going to be your friend, you’re not hot or cool enough for that.”
So, I’m at an impasse. The only kindness and approval I get is through the internet, but I need to be on the internet less because I am obsessing about social media
Where’s my spouse, my partner, my husband in all of this? My husband doesn’t want to deal with emotions. He has told me this before. So I pretend at all times to be fine so he doesn’t have to do any emotional labor. It’s a great system we have.
I’ve had some success at not dumping my emotions on FB by reminding myself repeatedly, when I get weak,”No one gives a fuck.” That works, more or less, but I still slip up some times. Though I recover a minute or two later, and delete the post. Then I head over here, and relieve it through blogging.
There’s some horrible self-destructive part of me that revels in the thought of people I know finding my blog. The pain I write out here, would be what finally got me what I’ve been slowly moving toward for years: total seclusion. I often wonder if the person inside me, the cold, tough, independent person that is overshadowed by pain and need for approval, would come out if no more opportunities for pain and approval (people) were around. If everyone I knew was driven away, I could set her free, and dump the persona that I built up half out of defense, and half out of trauma.