Anti-Social Media
I was speaking to a friend of mine recently about how we tend to see our flaws more glaringly than others do. And, not only in ourselves, but in things we create. Whether we build, sew, bake, craft, paint, write, develop, present, or whatever else we may be doing- if it’s something that is of our own design and making, we have a tendency to fixate on the shortcomings to the point that we are almost unable to see its beauty.
As I pondered this, I couldn’t help but consider how this tendency is aggravated by social media, and how our relationships suffer as a result. There have already been numerous studies to support the fact that social media contributes to anxiety and depression. This is a real problem, especially considering its addictive nature. But, beyond just the chemical affect it has on our brains, I can’t help but wonder how our relationships suffer- more than we realize.
Social media is a place to showcase our accomplishments and edit our lives to show the beautiful parts of it.
It is a facade- a fake. At best, it’s a whitewashed version of reality, and probably more closely resembles fiction. We post things that we think will get attention and wait for affirmation that others approve of our selections. Then, we are stuck somewhere between the ideal we’ve crafted for everyone else, and the knowledge that no one will ever really know us for who we are, Afterall, who would love the messy parts?
Worse than that, whether we realize it or not, I think we are often intimidated by the ideals we have of other peoples’ lives. “Wow. She has her life together so much more than I do. She wouldn’t want to be my friend.” Or, “I don’t want him to know that this is something I struggle with, because he clearly doesn’t, and he’d think less of me if he knew.”
What are we doing?
Are we really such gluttons for punishment that we are happy to set up a fake life to match all the other fake lives out there, just so we can pretend to be friends and live in total isolation? Neighbors used to know each other, visit each other, talk and commune together. It was less about political views and more about having relationships with the people you spend most of your time in close proximity to. Instead, it was about looking out for each other and knowing that you would have help in a crisis. And it was about living life. Together.
Suicide is on the rise. Depression, anxiety, and other struggles are on the rise. Clearly, there isn’t enough quality help for everyone. Or, those who need help aren’t willing to admit it. Do you know your neighbors well enough that you’d be comfortable calling them in an emergency? Would they call you? Do you know their routines well enough that you would recognize if they didn’t leave the house for a day or two? I admit that I don’t, but I would like to.
Not everyone can be an expert in psychology.
But, I think, not everyone needs a therapist. Maybe, just maybe, a lot of people just need a real friend. If all of us were intentional about the way we lived our lives with the people who live within walking distance of us; if our neighbors knew that they could call us when they felt like popping pills, maybe fewer people would feel that urge in the first place.
I could be wrong. I’m not an expert. I don’t have credentials. But I do know that, for living so close together, most of us live very isolated lives. If we could start to change that where we live, I think it would do us all a lot of good.
