Braedon has this thing he does. It kind of drove me nuts for a while, until I took some time to think about why he does it. This seems to happen a lot. Kids offer great insight into the universal truths of man. Their brains aren't filled with distractions of adulthood. This thing he does, it happens several times a day, and each time, I attempt to match his excitement because I get it now. Braedon reads a book or magazine nearly every second of down time he has, and every time he runs across a name in a book or magazine he recognizes as a friend's or family member's, he just HAS to tell me.
"MOM, look! Jacob Anderson! I have a second cousin named Jacob! And there's a Jacob in my class, and remember that one time our neighbor's cousin's dog's ex-owner's name was Jacob? And Anderson too, that's Grandma and Grandpa's last name."
I don't share in the love of his name game, but what I do understand is his desire to connect. I have that same need to find a common thread in all of my relationships. I seek insight into myself by finding bits of me in everyone around me. The better I have become at dropping judgement, (and I have gotten better although I have a long way to go,) the more I crave that healthier replacement, acceptance.
In 2012 that craving became an addiction. That addiction took hold via Facebook. As the year progressed, I found myself refreshing more and more, to an obsessive point. I looked for "likes" and comment counts and anything that gave me even a moment's rush of "I belong." Seeking my place in the world, a place to belong, I think that is a good thing. But shortcutting genuine connections through Facebook has left me frazzled, tired, sick.
Facebook has become my junkfood for the soul. I spend so much of my day snacking on its instant boosts, only to be left emotionally famished by the end of the day.
It has also robbed me of my quiet time. My brainstorm time. My epiphany time. I recently read a suggestion that to find one's passion, take notice of what you think about when you're taking a dump. Profound. Insightful. Kind of gross.
The instant I read this, I knew what must be done. I don't "think" on the toilet. I Facebook. That's when I decided enough was enough. As with any addiction, I knew the best way to quit was cold turkey.
Instead of making a resolution for 2013, I'm taking an action. I'm deleting my Facebook in search of something better. Something smaller, safer, healthier, real-er. (You shush, spell check...)
Oddly enough, as I was scrolling through the AOL celebrity gossip page this morning, (a guilty pleasure, NOT an addiction,) I ran across a New Year's resolution from 2010 that sums up this blog post perfectly. It was made by John Mayer, a man who's music I don't know, and who, every time I look at him, I believe needs a good 16 hours of sleep and a shower. Oh well, I'm not about to let a hokey piece of cheesy yet sound celebrity advice slip my grasp.
“I will not use texting as a form of reaching out for superficial attention/affection at all hours of the night. By not micro-trading in my emotional stock value every second of the day, I may just end up seeing the bigger, beautiful picture.”
Touche, you greasy womanizer, you... touche.