I’m Addicted to Facebook

I spend so much time checking if my Facebook posts are liked… by the time I look up from my phone… I’ve missed my son’s touchdown. I’m so busy checking to see how many followers I have, I’ve missed my daughter landing a jump on her skateboard. I’m so busy scrolling through the comments of my latest selfie, I’m missing my husbands’ jokes. I can’t even begin to imagine how many beautiful moments I’ve missed as a result of being on my phone and not being present with my loved ones. It’s heartbreaking.

I am addicted to social media… not a little bit… a lot a bit. The amount of time I spend on social media is the exact equivalent of how shitty I feel inside about myself. Some people can go on Facebook for a few minutes and pop off, no harm no foul. Some people know, without a shadow of a doubt, they are good enough. I wish I could be like that. I wish I knew. I wish I would have been taught to look within to find my worth, not outside of myself, and certainly not to Facebook. The crappier I feel inside, the more time I go on Facebook. I’m searching for validation, relevance, proof that I matter in the eyes of others to then know that I matter to myself. It just makes me feel worse.

Some people drink, some people shop, some people do drugs. My vice is my phone. I spend hours balancing Grace in one arm and scrolling on my phone in the other. I’ve replaced real live connection with virtual connection and they are so not the same thing. I’ve stayed hidden behind text messaging, messenger, and voice messaging, but it’s not the same as in-person, real life, in the flesh connection. It’s lonely.

While chatting with my beloved life coach today, we pulled up the 12 steps. Do you know them? I’d never seen them before today. One of the steps talks about making amends, being vulnerable and real to those most affected by addiction in our lives. I thought of my children, especially Hope, and how she must feel when she has a mom that half way pays attention. She’s the one that needs me the most these days.

I wanted to make it right with Hope. I had a heart to heart with her. I admitted I’ve been wrapping my worth in the amount of likes, the amount of followers, and the comments received, on the daily, via Facebook. I told her our worth is not in social media. I reminded her we are all 5’s no matter what. Nothing can change our 5 status. We were born enough. We are ALWAYS enough no matter what.

I continued talking to Hope and finally admitted my addiction out loud. Her response, “Mom, are you JUST NOW figuring that out?”

I held my breath.

Silence.

I swallowed hard and continued. I told her our worth is not earned, it’s given to us the moment we’re in our mother’s womb. I told her I’ve been struggling for years with loving my whole self.

It saddens me to know how much I’ve disliked myself for so long, how much I’ve tried to prove my greatness to others, how long I’ve searched outside of myself for validation of good-enough-ness. I’ve done this for so long, it’s become second nature. If so and so doesn’t like me, there must be something wrong with me. I’m not (blank) enough. I try too hard. I’ve never felt good enough and go to great lengths to be liked. I people please and it just depresses me to choose to jump through so many hoops. The thought of not being liked is too much for me to bear. I’d rather do something I don’t want to do and be liked than risk doing what I want to do and not be liked.

I wish I would have felt special as a child, wish I would have known that I mattered, that I was enough as my quirky, artsy, and unique self. Wish I would not have determined I was less than due to an A.D.D. and dyslexia diagnosis at 6. Repeating the first grade took a toll. I wish my mom would have taught me self-love. She failed me because her mom failed her. I will not fail Hope.

Facebook addiction is toxic. If you allow your worth to be contingent on what others feel about you, your confidence is like putty in their hands and you have absolutely no power or control.

Often, I choose the scroll hole over cuddling with my kids. I hide in the bathroom to be on my phone while my family is nestled up on the couch cuddling. I’ve spend more time with my phone than I ever have with my children. I’ve allowed my phone to come between me and my beloved family. I say they matter most and in my heart they do, but my actions show otherwise. Can you relate?

I have spent more time feeding and pacifying my ego than I have filling up and feeding my soul.

I’ve written about this before, but it’s become so out of control lately. I’ve decided to make a change and maybe you need to make one, too. Is there an area in your life that you hide from others, that you work really hard to store away because you feel shame and guilt? I get it because I’ve been hiding this skeleton in my closet for far too long and it’s become too hard to manage.

As soon as I put words to my addiction, I felt at peace. As soon as I admitted what was so shameful and ugly, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. When I spoke to Hope, she was so forgiving and understanding, it made my heart melt. And my James just said my phone had come between our football and play time together. I knew in that moment, things had to change.

I know better, I can do better. I am going to time myself on my phone and have a purpose when I am on social media. No more scroll hole for me. I want to see Grace walk for the first time. I want to see every single touchdown my football star makes. I want to see Hope’s skateboard tricks. I want to spend my time with the people that matter most to me.

I am a 5. You are a 5. We are all 5’s. What someone thinks about me is none of my business and has everything to do with them and absolutely nothing to do with me. I choose to be deliberate with my phone and put it away when my family is in my presence because I want to be present for the people that mean the very most to me.

I sincerely invite you to be with people, truly be with them. According to Brene Brown, we are ALL hard-wired for connection… human connection… heart to heart connection.