Monday, March 21, 2016

One Hour


In Jamberry world, we call it the "Power Hour". The one hour you give yourself to focus 100% and rock your business.

Well, I've given myself a Facebook "Power Hour" the last two nights. Last night it just happened to be an hour before I decided enough is enough. Tonight I think I got six stories into my news feed scroll and lost interest. Now, thank my girl Shonda for the new-found bravery...but I'm about to say something that will probably piss off a lot of people. Or, offend them. I get that.

Here is what I have learned in my extremely short time "off" Facebook (I'm not "off" I just don't have it on my phone and won't use the browser to see it - hello, that's cheating): I don't give a shit about Facebook.

Of those six stories, one was a birth announcement I've been hoping to see for a week. Every time I saw this friend post about still being pregnant I thought, "Come on, baby! Show your face!". That was the highlight of my Facebook time. The rest? I don't even know what. I think I had 26 notifications. One was a recipe Hubs shared with me. The rest, I don't even know.

While I appreciate being connected with old friends and I love a good dose of nostalgia, social media started to take over my life. No, not started. Social media legit took over my life.

It started when it was my job. My career. It was cool and cutting edge and trendy. Then as it went on it got harder and less fun and more of just a pain in the ass. Add kids into the mix. OOH! social media is fun again. Share all of the things. Don't keep baby books. Facebook is forever. Why journal anything when Facebook Memories exist!?

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing the FB memories. Hubs and I look through them every day and reminisce about the stories they tell. But it's the past. It's over. And it's digital, which means tomorrow Facebook could explode and there won't be anymore memories. My life had become Facebook only. If it wasn't on FB, I forgot it ever happened.

I haven't printed a single photo of Mo since he was born. I look at him on Facebook. Why put him on the walls? Maybe because he is our child?! Yeah.

How many aspects of my life have gone to the wayside because I've depended on this social network to remember my life for me?

Yesterday I was thinking about when LW starts dating. I'm not talking about high school prom date type stuff, I mean he's home from college and brings the girl of his dreams with him. In my mind, he and she sat on the couch and flipped through a scrapbook. I stopped myself and realized...there is no such book. Well, there is, but it's mostly empty. I think I stopped after his first few months on earth.

How will she know that he pronounced things with a B instead of an M when he was two? "Jambies" "Thobbus the Train" How will she know that he nicknamed his little brother "Dinosaur Simon"? How will she know that he pronounced his name "Biddy"?

My friends, it's time I wrote things down. It's time I printed photographs. It's time I documented our lives in ways that will last. Facebook is a big business. Huge. But it's not a baby book. And I'm embarrassed to admit that I've relied on it to be ours.

I am now 41 minutes into my one hour on the computer. Like a teenager, I needed a curfew. But I don't need these last nineteen minutes. I don't want to scroll through the clutter and read about things that simply don't matter to us.

These few days have already changed me. I'm calmer. Happier. More focused. I've gone on walks with friends. I've been texting my close girlfriends and talking. Not just complaining.

I like where this is going. I'm sure I'll come back to social media in a more active role but right now leaving all of that mental clutter behind just feels too good. If you need me, stop by my house. Or call me. I have been popping in and out of Instagram periodically, which feels like a good balance.

I'll leave you with this, my favorite line from Year of Yes (which I finished tonight and it's magnificent): "I don't have to do anything about my problems if I am busy complaining and feeing sorry for myself" 

Preach, Shonda. Preach. 

It's high time I stopped complaining and started doing.


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