And so it is that a whole month has passed, since I decided to disentangle my virtual life a little. When I decided that I needed some anti-social networking and a wee bit more real-time life, getting online less often seemed like a good idea. So by minimalizing my presence on the interweb (yes, this blog is big and loud enough for my liking, thankyouverymuch), having one less thing to do online. I got off Facebook. Again.
I’ve done it before. But I’ve also had a confused relationship with Facebook, taking a love-hate stand and often oscillating between cribbing about how much time I waste there, yet choosing to stay on, keeping a limited circle with high security settings, to keep my posts, links, status messages and pictures private. For my own little world of people. But the most recent (and certainly not the last) round of upgrades, introducing silly new features that published every single act, utterance and move of each one of my friends, their friends, aunties, uncles, doggies and the rest, pissed me off off. Enough to get off and not come back. For a month. I don’t know how long this will last. But I haven’t missed Facebook, and aside from logging in from the husbands account a couple of times to check some work-related stuff, I haven’t felt the need to get back. I miss out on a lot of good reads and links, and I miss some of the entertainment and amusement, but those I care about and those really care about me, are in touch with me regardless.
While the impulse that triggered the final detachment might have been the new features, this has been coming a long time. The truth is, there’s far too much happening with me. I’ve raved and ranted to high heavens and back now about constantly being on the run from one thing to another, not pausing to breathe and feeling tired all the time. Between work, an all new high level of socializing (yes, even in small-town Panjim, where we knew nobody when we first moved, we’re in a place where we’re so busy I struggle to make time to meet everyone I know) the home and everything that comes with it, sometimes working from home, wanting to blog about the many things that happen to me, cooking, trying to maintain that whole other blog, And don’t’ even get me started on my masochistic penchant for cleaning. Sometimes its like I’m trying to be a superwoman and failing miserably.
So you see why I had this desperate urge to declutter? The truth is I feel the need to bring some stillness into my life. To let things be. To accept that I can’t always be everywhere doing everything all at once. That I can’t possibly have a perfectly spotless home, and work 8 hours a day and cook every night, and stay fit, and be a social butterfly, and expect not be tired at the end of it all.
That the one thing that I should really spend time spring cleaning is my myself and my mind. To remove the unwanted stuff, nurture the important stuff and focus on me for a bit. I need to prioritize: my health over the constant need to eat out, binge on alcohol and have one too many late nights; work and home over being outside with the whole wide world at large. But most importantly, spending time with myself than online posting random status messages about everything I’m doing, where I’m going, what I’m feeling and wanting.
If I have to be able to do the things I really want to, even as small as having a proper routine and making my life as meaningful as it felt a few weeks ago, I have to do one little thing to all my plans. I have to
I have to mean what I want. Stop making plans in the air, turn intention in action, knock off the unnecessary, bring the necessary to the front and follow-bloody-through. My days aren’t going to stretch to accommodate everything that I am doing, so I might as well make some time for what really matters. I can’t say I’ve succeeded, but I think I’m getting there slowly. More home cooked meals. More bedtime reading. More evenings spent at home. More conversation. So it was pretty easy to make a decision. Adios Facebook. Hello real life.