By: Victoria Smith
Now and then, I experience misgivings about my social media life that compel me to revisit that constantly nagging question whether I should close my personal Facebook and Instagram accounts in order to reclaim full authenticity and sanity in my world. I observe how a significant number of my so-called “friends” around the world over the years had used Facebook to ask me for money; questioned and doubted my friendship when I was not accessible to them at their convenience; and acted distant, even resentful, if I’d displayed a less than current and complete knowledge of, or keen interest in what was going on in their lives, or failed to register my “like” to their posts. It reminded me of what I’d learned about God in my religion class at the Catholic high school for girls I’d attended.
Our very strict German Benedictine nun religion teacher said that God has three absolute attributes—short of which, God is not god. They are the three big “O’s”: omnipotence (all-powerful); omnipresence (present everywhere); and omniscience (knows everything). King David, filled with wonder and awe of these mighty traits of God, was so inspired that he burst into a song called Psalm 139:
You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.
Guess what? Technology, by enabling us to know practically anything and everything with a click of a finger, and by making everyone accessible and knowable to anyone and everybody in the world, has now effectively given us such god-like powers and along with them, the expected responsibilities. Thus, I can understand why some of my friends have high expectations of me. They see pictures of me living a good, almost seemingly perfect life (as I am not in the habit of washing my very human dirty laundry in public), and they hope to have a share of the bounty—a likewise very human aspiration. They perceive me as having plentiful resources, which means having much power. Thus, some of the requests for material, if not downright financial aid. They know whenever I’m online or have seen their posts or read their messages, and they expect a prompt reaction—aggravated by the present availability of a hierarchy of emoji responses: a mere “thumbs up” is no longer enough; we have to use the “heart” emoji in addition to posting an obsequious reply. The situation almost invariably evolves into a competition of who could post the most eloquently fawning response that then gets to be rewarded by the original post-er with the “besties” award label before all the other “friends”. It’s social media’s version of Brownie points. It tests even a poet’s capacity to come up with the right words. God forbid we be found lacking in our compliments, lest we be dealt with the silent treatment. Being ignored on social media is equivalent to digital death.
It occurs to me that were it not for social media and the smart phone, we might still be friends and family with some of those who’ve “un-friended” or “blocked-contact” us, and vice-versa. Due to the many misunderstandings and miscommunications, in addition to all the unreasonable expectations of us promoted by social media, many of us feel more isolated and alienated from each other than connected. How I yearn for the good old days when all that was required of us to maintain good, long-distance friendships were the seasonal holiday and birthday cards and the occasional brief calls. They had to be brief, lest we be charged with a hefty long-distance or overseas call fee—the perfect excuse! Gone is that excuse now with free Internet calling. Ah, those were the days when we were free to live a full, normal life apart from our friends!
But no, not today. We seem to be expected to be accessible and available 24/7, different time zones notwithstanding. In the first few years of my digital life, I especially felt the responsibility of meeting the expectations of family and friends, who, multiplied into the hundreds by social media, converted that into the burden of being expected to be everything to everyone, everytime. In other words, to be like God. I was especially sensitive to those who were vulnerable to low self-esteem or feelings of insecurity. I wanted to be exactly what they needed me to be, when they needed it. Alas, I fell short—many times. I felt guilt, disappointment in myself. Compassion overload was not an acceptable defense. Until I remembered I’m only human, and that it’s not humane to expect a human to be like a god to everyone in her life.
These necessitated a change in me: I literally had to learn how to be “not so nice”—which was very difficult for me, being by nature a people pleaser. It was hard work, but I finally learned to say “no”, to temper my instinct for generosity, to withstand failure in the eyes of others without diminishing my self-worth. This empowered me to limit the use of social media for the tool it merely is: a convenient, cost-effective way to share photos and important information with family and friends across the globe.
Recently, I heard the old song, “You’re Nobody Till Somebody Loves You” as if for the first time. It struck me how wrong that message is. This is exactly how social media preys upon the weak. It tells you that you are only as good as the number of your “followers” or the frequency of “likes” on your posts. And its message is worse than that old song’s, for it is ultimately saying you’re only somebody if everybody loves you. The need to be popular has never been more urgent or critical.
But I say you only need to love yourself to be somebody. Then and only then could you truly love others like yourself. Oh, wait. Didn’t someone else already say that? God, for instance? .
(All rights reserved. Copyright ©2018 by Victoria G. Smith. For updates on her author events & publications, go to VictoriaGSmith.com. “Like” her on Facebook at Author Victoria G. Smith. “Follow” her on Twitter @ AuthorVGSmith)