Goodbye, Facebook

On July 21, I deactivated my Facebook account. I cannot tell you how much it disturbs me that I do not have the authority to delete my account, but must simply make it inactive, as though it I'm on vacation and will surely be back to continue on as normal.

Which is one reason I deactivated my account; I am sick and tired of Facebook's psychological games.

The deactivation page required that I choose one, and only one, of the following:

• I don't feel safe on Facebook.
• I don't find Facebook useful.
• I have another Facebook account.
• I spend too much time using Facebook.
• I have a privacy concern.
• My account was hacked.
• This is temporary. I'll be back.
• I don't understand how to use Facebook.
• I get too many emails, invitations, and requests from Facebook.
• Other, please explain further:

I clicked on several of them before I realized that I could only pick one, and the reason it took me so long to realize that is this: each time I clicked the box next to one of the choices a dialog box would pop up and explain to me that I don't have to leave Facebook to deal with this problem and that if I just go --here-- or click on --this button-- that they would take care of it and I could keep my account active. Ever other account I've made with any other company gave me the authority to delete my account with them if I wanted to. Telling them why was optional, the deletion was permanent and the invitation to return polite. But Facebook ... no, they can't let you just *leave*, you have to have a darned good reason for leaving, and even then they'll keep your seat warm for your return.

Did I mention that I'm tired of their psychological games?

I chose the "Other" option and wrote in the accompanying text box:

"I have concluded that Facebook is no longer a responsible member of my culture and community. Facebook has increasingly encroached on my privacy for the sole purpose of furthering it's own means and has legitimized pornography and the solicitation of prostitution. Facebook has made it clear to me that it has no desire to help people, contribute to or help stabilize legitimate, healthy communities. I don't need Facebook and Facebook certainly does not need me. We have come to the end of this relationship. Farewell."

I will not miss Facebook. I regret the distance, individualism and mass communication that our culture has decided are vital to existence, but Facebook hasn't, and won't, solve those problems. Those ruts are deep and have been in the making for the past five centuries. The philosophical, economic and political overhauls necessary to address the issues of our modern world will only be enacted through personal relationships, and you can't get that via mass communications and social media.

Social sites like Facebook advertise themselves as being able to reunite users with old friends and acquaintances, and let users branch out into wider social circles via their friend's friends. But there are two things that social sites have to ignore into order to keep their users: a) everyone has a friend limit, and b) personal maturation requires moving on. I learned in Psychology 101 that everyone has a limit to the number of people they can interact with on a regular basis. That number is flexible and corresponds to personalities, with introverts requiring fewer friends than extroverts. The average number of acquaintances, friends and close friends that a person can have is ~150. Facebook, and other social media sites, depend on their users increasing their relationship circles beyond that number, and I classify that as corporate abuse. Push, wiggle, cajole, bribe, lie, weasel and manipulate, they are determined to make it look like surrendering one's sanity to their demands will be fun and/or beneficial. I have yet to see a case where it is.

Leaving the past and walking into the future has been a challenge for humanity since the Fall. Grieving the apparent loss of college friends was soothed by the idea that I could poke them, or write on their walls, or send them messages. But the truth is that those relationships died because of distance, even if I lived in denial. There was nothing personal, nothing real, about the way we stalked each other's Facebook pages, scanning gobs of content for something that would make our brains release endorphins. It was fun. And shallow. Over time I realized that I didn't know those people anymore, even though I care so much about them. And I knew that they didn't know me.

Zombie relationships are dead with some semblance of life allowing us to trick ourselves to believing that they are truly alive. It is so hard to let go of a good thing and reach out into the unknown for something as deeply personal and terrifyingly dangerous as a relationship with another human being. It is so much easier to trick ourselves into thinking that time and distance haven't changed anything, and that we don't have to let go of things, and people, that we value. But the zombie relationships I had on Facebook were sapping my time and emotional energy, stealing away what was due to the people with whom I live, work and worship. Feeding zombies is easy, but it is not what God has made us for. We are called to *live*, to grow, risking ourselves on the frontier of a dynamic and self-sacrificial relationship with God. There is a time for everything, and everyone. And when I must part ways with a dear Christian friend, I must take comfort in the knowledge that I will see them again. One day......

But enough ranting for now. You all are here, I value you! I'm intending to spend more time on the phone and writing personal letters, so we'll see how that goes. Blessings!