Social media makes me a worse person.
I wonder if this may be familiar to you, too.
I find that it churns up subtle judgments and blatant comparisons, then an extra dose of shame and discouragement when I beat myself up for not being better than that.
The whole charade drives me nuts. Social media is an incredible resource. It’s possible it’s even how you came across this article. Some of you will find it from my own account!
But I’ve had to put some ground rules in place for how I interact with Facebook, Instagram … really, all of it, because the trap is real. Like the other night, when I found myself hunched over my phone in bed, doom scrolling, deep in the rabbit hole, viewing photos of an ex’s glamorous wife, feeling like an unaccomplished loser.
I love my life. I’m incredibly blessed. I also genuinely love seeing other people thrive and succeed. But the truth is that I’ve been in a bit of a rut lately, and social media is the opposite of helpful in times such as these.
The short story is that my daughter is in the middle of an intensive therapy program that required we pack up our Houston home to spend a month at a special clinic in Dallas.
I’ve written about her before. She is a tremendous source of joy and pride, and she has been through so much. She was born with an undiagnosed genetic condition that’s presented with a list of diagnoses so long, people always expect to see someone who struggles to function.
That’s not our girl though. She’s absolutely incredible. And, her path, along with mine and my husbands’ as we walk this road with her, has not been easy. She is strong. We are strong. But sometimes we all break — and that’s where I was last weekend.
We’re in this program trying to help her slowly but surely work through a swallowing disorder that makes eating a physical and psychological uphill battle. Essentially 100 percent of her nutrition is through a feeding tube. By the time we leave the Dallas program, if all goes really well, tube dependency might be down to about 95 percent.
This is a very long road.
My sense is that as we work with Leia and give her lots of time and support, she will eventually learn to eat, but what hit me over the weekend, is that she may not.
I’m an optimist in my core. I believe in miracles and the value of grit and dedication, so it actually took me this long — until my daughter is 3 years old and during our second stint at this hospital — to finally realize she might always need a tube.
Swallowing that (we’ll go with the pun), while simultaneously juggling the logistical challenges of the moment, has been tricky. And that night, browsing social media didn’t make it any better.
I’m honestly still coming to terms with all this, and intensively researching our path forward. I want my daughter to have a rich and wonderful life. I think she will, whether she eats or not, but this is unknown territory. It’s easy to worry and natural, I think, to feel a level of grief.
There are so many things that I see this situation calling for. Allowing. Acceptance. Compassion. Gratitude. All of which are the opposite of what social media stirs up. At least for me, scrolling social media often involves avoidance and the antithesis of gratitude — comparison. It’s the anti-cure.
My inner work here is laid out — and I’ll add that practicing gratitude for this little gem of a person is exceedingly easy.
Internal reconciling aside, I’ve also added a few apps to my phone so that when I have down time and feel magnetized to a screen, I can view something interesting, even if it’s less enthralling than Facebook. My plan is to keep redirecting my attention toward this other content when there’s not an acute pain-point on my radar, too.
These social platforms simply aren’t designed to bring out our best. If they’re not used with a specific intention, like connecting with a particular person, getting the word out on something, or posting something helpful, they discreetly bring us down. That’s what I find anyway. So, outside of very purposeful interactions, I’m taking a break.
If any of this resonates, I invite you to join me. Right after you share this column.
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