You have ruined Facebook for me. Someone had to do it.
To be honest, I only started on Facebook to keep an eye on my teenage children. It didn’t really work. They were soon off to other social media platforms. I remained.
Do you ever get those 2 page typed Christmas letters ? You know the ones. They extol the annual family achievements: the child who got a full paid scholarship to an Ivy league college; the daughter who won a county pageant, the toddler whose early IQ score placed him directly into 2nd grade; the son who mastered the science fair just as his hockey team was headed to the state championship.
Or maybe it was the husband who was promoted to godlike status in his company, made all the right investments to allow for the 2nd timeshare, this time in Cancun. Or the wife, on break from her rewarding career to have her second set of twins after winning the Pillsbury Bake-Off.
Reading this stuff was exhausting. I usually saved them until after the holiday, when I had more energy.
This is what Facebook was becoming for me. It was like getting those Christmas letters.
Everyday. With pictures.
Recent studies claim that being involved in Facebook has contributed to depression.
And along came WordPress, where one could express thoughts and feelings; share memories and opinions; talk about things that matter, things that may endure.
A place where people actually read your words, and offer comments in return. A place where strangers get to know you in a way that many friends do not.
Maybe you use your real name. Maybe you choose anonymity.
It doesn’t really make much difference. Your heart is transparent. Your creativity leaves its own mark.
I am so grateful to have found you.
Van by the River