What one year of my Facebook posts revealed: Part Three

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We are living in a very privileged time in history.

Or at least I am living in a very privileged time in history.

Can’t get to the grocery store? Have it picked up for you. Too drunk to drive home? Get an Uber.

Have something to say to the world at 11:30 pm on a Friday evening after you’ve drunk three jalapeno margaritas? The world is there to listen. At least they are on Facebook.

That is why when it came time for me to evaluate what I commonly refer to as my mid-life-come-to-Jesus-embarrass-myself-to-the-world-moment that most of us will experience (some louder than others) at some point in our late 30’s or early 40’s. I went straight to the source. My Facebook posts.

In 2017 you can see my body dwindle from my normal 120 ish pounds to a 102 pounds. You can see my manic impulses try and strangle the shit out of the election.

You can clearly see of crisis of identity.

I had a good old fashioned identity crisis.

“A period of uncertainty and confusion in which a person's sense of identity becomes insecure, typically due to a change in their expected aims or role in society.”

Yeah that sounds right.

My posts on Facebook were often laced with “buy this class”, “I’ve started this new school”, “I’m writing this new play”, “I’m starting this new group”. Without being too hard on myself, (because let’s face it I wasn’t really doing any harm to anyone else except probably mild annoyance), I clearly jump from one idea to the other, desperately trying to claim my little piece of the world.

I spent little effort on substance. In other words, most of my time was spent creating cute marketing around what my idea of the month was. Fairly successfully I might add.

But no idea, play, class, workshop, product, school, or online tutorial could fulfill what I was craving. Balance.

I have an embarrassing secret that I figured out come tax season. I guess it’s not a secret if you aren’t even aware of it. It feels like a secret because it carries a lot of shame with it that I liken to the sort of shame that hoarders may feel.

I owned close to thirteen websites and had paid SquareSpace (boy do I love them!) several thousands of dollars. I am a website hoarder.

I’m sure I’m not the first.

I currently have two. I’ve made progress.

But when my identity in the world feels threatened my instinct is to put together a website. Isn’t that odd?

Not really. It makes perfect sense to me now and it acts as a barometer for my creative impulses.

I’m no longer ashamed and my husband is perfectly on the nose when he says “don’t go make a website…”.

I digress a little. The point of this series of blog posts are to examine what a years worth of Facebook posts revealed.

Nothing spectacular or life changing. Nothing too embarrassing that I’m going to race and delete. Sadness, silliness, a lot of look at what I’m doing with my life sort of stuff that I think we can all relate to.

Just like buying and designing websites is a habit, so too is going on Facebook and saying “here’s what I’m working on”. That little surge of adrenaline I get when 1200 eyeballs have the ability to engage with me can be like crack cocaine gummy bears to a creative like me.

It’s obvious I have an unhealthy relationship with it and it’s better that I leave it alone. I’m sure I’ll slip up. It’s difficult to have a career trying to be a public figure without it. I’m not going to be dogmatic about it. Instead I’ll do my best to be honest about it, and treat it as a tool not as a life raft.