High school is over

Lately for me Facebook has seemed like one big mind fuck. Let me explain.

Once in a while I’ll decide I have something interesting or mildly witty to put out into the world and I’ll post it. Yay me. Easy peasy, right? Nope. Almost immediately, anxiety sets in. Is everything spelled right? Does it make sense? Does it sound stupid?

Some time passes. 20 or 30 minutes, tops. I have to go back and see my post and ask the first set of questions of myself again. Of course, they’re easier to answer if I’ve been legitimized. And by that I mean if I’ve gotten a like or even better – a comment!! *squeal*

So now I’m mentally back in high school, unsure of myself and hoping I measure up.  I want to be liked of course. But I think I’m also into being the non-conformist, the underdog, the unnoticed, the lost. Whether my friends do or don’t like or comment on my post, I consider the why and the why not.

Now I’m unhappy with my results and I’m deactivating my account. Yep, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll stick it to that Zuckerberg fella and DEACTIVATE! It’s just a click, and once it’s done I’m liberated. Freedom is a beautiful thing I’d say, and it feels oh-so-good.

Two, three, four weeks later and I’m thinking about those people. Those 247 friends I have in the world. I miss them. Why, I couldn’t possibly keep up with them daily, like I do my sister or best friend, right? That sounds like a full time job. So, no. I decide I want to get back the updates on daily activities, the photos, the ramblings and the like. I’m logging in, and now I’m back, right in the thick of it. And for some time I’ll be even more popular than before because I’ll have been missed. Yes, now that’s gratifying.

Hey, maybe I should post this?

I’m just here

Being me. Being a mom, girlfriend, sister, daughter, whatever.

I often get tired of what those roles mean to other people. I’m that person or role in my own way, and it’s their choice whether or not to be in my life, or talk to me, or anything in between.

On the flip side of that coin my expectations need to be checked, and I’m constantly reminding myself of this. If my brother doesn’t take my call, or my mom is upset about something I said, that’s got to be ok with me. Because they aren’t me and won’t act like me or like I want them to.

Expectations and assumptions all lead to disappointments and I’d like to be done with them.

And that’s all.