Precious Privacy

I've really had to detach from facebook, because reading my newsfeed makes me mad and sad and jealous, and I really don't like feeling like that.

I suspect it's a common problem among those of us that are sick, or poor, or both. We have friends who are more able - physically, emotionally, financially - to live life in a way that seems ideal. They post pictures of their family outings, of dinners with friends, of their children's milestones. They write status updates about their day at work, their new hair color, or where they might go for their next vacation.

Don't get me wrong, I may be a little jealous at times, but I truly am happy for them, want them to live their lives, and would never want anyone else to censor their joy because I'm struggling. But it can be hard to be as pragmatic and logical in the moment when I'm stuck in my chair and painfully envious of the pregnancies and holidays and parties other people are cheerfully uploading.

Myself, I don't post much at all. I feel very scrutinized by people in my family who think I'm just lazy, or something to that effect. I don't know the details of their assumptions, and I definitely don't care to, I just know the vibe I get when I'm around them and how little support I receive. My good times are precious, so precious, and rare lately, and I don't want the comments, or non-comments, to diminish whatever happiness I might have surrounding a photo or thought. So, I keep my pictures and my thoughts private, share them with the few people I know who truly do care, and live my life a happier person.

That sounds so bitter! I would think I was bitter, reading that. Maybe I am. I actually feel a rant about what family means building so I'll take that as confirmation and wrap this up before twelve paragraphs have gone by and it's dark and I haven't eaten in six hours.

I think I also avoid facebook because I don't feel I can be myself. I complain about migraines and detail the awful bits here without guilt, but I can't bring myself to be honest with my friends and family the same way. While they are getting married, going to football games, and vacationing in Disneyland, I'm likely nursing my head and pushing myself to the limit to get a few loads of laundry done. It's not an optimal experience, and I choose not to frame my life through the lens of inspiration-porn, so it's honest or bust. And who wants honest? Really? I think I've found the one man and five friends who do, but no one else wants to hear my sad stories without apologizing to me or blaming me for it.