What one year of my Facebook posts revealed: Part One


I did something dreadful the other day. It was embarrassing, cringe worthy and mundane all at the same time.

I went back and read through all my Facebook posts from the years 2014-2019. It took me several sittings at the computer for a few days to get through and I felt strangely ill afterwards. As if I had downloaded a whole bunch of yucky internet juices into my veins.

The first couple years were not too difficult. I actually thought “hmm…maybe it’s not as bad as I thought?” Then I got to 2017.

Ah. Now we’re talking.

I see three themes that run through my posts.

Crisis of identity. Illness. Trump.

Ah fuck. Trump. Do we have to?

Yeah, I know. Let’s just get this part one over with. I wish it wasn’t such a big part of my crazy fall into chaos…but the writing’s there on the literal (Facebook) wall.

Can you relate? The election of Donald Trump and the turmoil and stress that we feel collectively as a society has taken its toll. Well, it has on me. And judging from my multitudes of Facebook friends it has for them too.

It has happened before. I don’t think many people of my generation know this. We tend to stick to our own history. But…

When the economy crashed in 1929 and The Great Depression began the country as a whole: families, journalists, business men, moms, dads, cousins, aunts, uncles and workers of all kinds began to describe themselves as having been “crippled” by the disaster that was the economy.

Sure enough in 1930’s the polio epidemic surfaced, literally crippling hundreds of thousands of (mainly) children. Did the energy of an entire generational tribe that was infected by fear manifest into their children? Gosh, it looks that way. It took a force of strength to lift the country up. Literally. A war. World War II helped to heal American spirit. Jobs increased, lives strengthened, pride and power was restored. The vaccine for polio was invented in 1953.

I know it takes a leap of faith to believe that polio was perhaps manifested because of the collective conscience. It’s not that big of a leap though is it? When my life is in inner turmoil I can directly link the chaos in my life to migraines, a case of the poops, back aches…you name it.

So okay. Let’s assume we agree. So what?

Well, I have to ask the next question.

What is manifesting in my children as I continue to watch the news like a reality show junkie? What’s manifesting in me? A lot of shit. That’s what.

No one is going to save me but myself. I have to take responsibility for my own contributions towards an epidemic that could certainly swallow us whole.

You’ve heard this all before and frankly it’s too exhausting to talk about because it seems we’re just going to get through this as a collective and let the chips fall where they may and sadly many will be wounded in the process. That is history. We are living through history.

I can only turn inward and do my own work that will hopefully inspire my family and friends and co-workers to do their work and so on an so forth. I can only do my part to be of service to others. To try my best to shut my mouth for a bit and listen to people who might have different opinions.

It’s my job not to panic but to exist. Exist and model. Model and exist. Let the collective conscience start to develop into a healthier state of existence.

I decide when relationships do not align and quietly close the door and go back to myself. I don’t need to shout it from the roof tops. That has not worked for me. It has just made me miserable, more sick and frankly embarrassed.

It has taken me a long time to learn this lesson.

In part 2 we don’t have to talk about Trump anymore!

It’s about illness. Oh..that’s fun.