I hate social media.
A statement like that sounds pretty strange coming from someone who has been using social media since high school, starting with MySpace at age 16. (Since middle school, if you count LiveJournal, but I don’t.) I’ve never particularly loved it, but for years, I was at least able to tolerate it. Even after I first got sick, I still used it. Sure, I was going through a rough time, wasn’t able to work, and didn’t have much money, but half of my healthy Facebook friends were also struggling. Most of us were right out of college, and aside from the odd inappropriate “at least it isn’t cancer!” comments, most people could identify with at least some parts of my situation. I eventually became well enough to work, got my own apartment, and felt “normal” again, like I fit in. I continued using Facebook (I was long done with MySpace by then) and even started a Twitter account.
Then I got sick again. Really sick.
One of the first things I did was take a break from Facebook. I was devastated that I had landed right back in the same situation I was in after diagnosis, unable to work and fresh off a hospitalization and several ER visits. I didn’t want to explain it, so I left. That break from my personal Facebook account is at three years and counting. I didn’t take a break from Twitter, though; I turned most of my attention to the chronic illness community on there, making many new friends, asking for advice, and receiving support from some wonderful people. I was, and still am, incredibly grateful for that support.
One of the reasons I felt (and feel) comfortable on Twitter is because 99% of my followers don’t know me in real life. Another reason is that the majority of them have some sort of chronic illness, often more than one. This is not true of my Facebook friends; all of them know me in real life, many have known me for years, and a lot of them knew me before I got sick. Most of them are not sick. They do not understand, and it isn’t their fault. Chronic illness is impossible to explain unless you’ve been through it. I don’t want them to understand, because I never want it to happen to them.
I’m getting older, and so are my Facebook friends. Many of them are approaching 30 or are already there. They are moving on with their lives; getting engaged, married, pregnant. I am not doing any of those things. Most likely, I will never do any of those things. I am acutely aware of how far behind I am. I lost most of my twenties to chronic illness. Even now that I’m significantly less sick than I was for many of those years, I’m having a hard time catching up. I’m afraid that going back on Facebook would crush me. I’m also afraid I’d have to explain my absence in detail, or that I’d be expected to act like a typical twenty-something, which it’s been pretty well established that I am not. It barely seems worth trying.
Do I really hate social media, or do I just hate that I don’t measure up? I think it’s a combination of both. Even before my illness, I wasn’t thrilled with social media; I thought, and still think, that it encourages people to be far too self-absorbed for their own good. Facebook certainly wasn’t good for me, especially after I got sick. It’s one thing to share a moon face selfie with people who have also taken prednisone and have no idea what I looked like when I was healthy. It’s another thing entirely to post that selfie to be viewed by the people I knew growing up who don’t understand why my face is now so round.
I’m not planning on giving up social media entirely. I enjoy using Twitter, and I’ve made so many friends on there that I can’t imagine leaving all of them. As for Facebook, I struggle between the urge to delete it entirely and thinking that I should probably get back on there and reintroduce myself to the people who think I vanished into thin air. Which I kind of did. I really haven’t made a decision either way yet, but maybe 2018 will be the year I do.
I hate social media, but I suppose I can live with it. It’s living with myself, the way I am now, that’s the hardest part.