Sometimes, I regret the day I signed up for a Facebook account.
Initially I thought it would be a fun way to connect with friends throughout my university years, and that it would follow suit behind MySpace, which quickly dissipated after graduation. But Facebook has turned into something that infiltrates nearly every facet of my life.
And it couldn’t just stop there.
Facebook was the forerunner in the social media movement which has re-shaped modern society and developed a new standard for human interaction.
Everyday I see posts about friends’ engagements, weddings, promotions, newborn babies, trips to Hawaii, or recent grocery store purchases.
Some of these are interesting. Others, not so much.
But one thing is for sure. Reading about how amazing my friends’ lives are has created a debilitating sense of inferiority and a never-ending game of comparison.
A few years ago, shortly after college, I hit a record low in my self-esteem and in my motivation to pursue my goals and dreams.
It seemed as though all of my friends were either in serious, headed-towards-marriage relationships, landing amazing jobs, or just having much better luck than me.
I criticized myself for getting a degree in something I enjoyed rather than in something that would make me money. I was convinced I was relationally handicapped, and my punishment for being a jobless, boyfriend-less, post-grad was waiting on tables for ungrateful patrons.
It was as though my life was stuck in a fish bowl. Trapped inside a glass box, surrounded by an infinite view of an unattainable world.
Then one day, I deactivated my Facebook account.
For three months, I refused to update my status, check-in on the latest happenings of my news feed, or change my profile picture. I went as far to delete the app off of my phone to reduce opportunities for temptation and to help me stay focused in my lofty pursuit of anti-Facebookism.
Those three months were filled with much introspection and many realizations. I was able to ask myself serious and pressing questions: why were my aims failing? And most importantly, why had I allowed these disappointments to cripple my sense of self-worth and determination?
Maybe my dreams were attainable. What if I tried, failed, and refused to stop trying?
If I allowed myself to learn from these failures, embarrassments, and heartaches, would I become a wiser woman who’s prepared to face the world as an adult, rather than a kid in a grown up’s body?
I stopped comparing myself to how everyone else was supposedly “making it,” and began to put a plan into action to become a person I could be proud of. A person I could admire.
All Facebook was doing in my life was reminding me the only person who was disappointed in my-so-called lack of achievements was me.
Because that’s what the evil game of comparison does. It convinces you that you’re not only “not good enough,” but that you never will be.
This May marks three years since my college graduation. And though I am always in pursuit of enlightenment as I try to become a better version of myself, I can actually say I am proud of where I am, who I am, and what I have done.
We’re all interesting and valuable, regardless of what it seems like from the content (or lack thereof) of our tweets, Instagrams and statuses.
The only person who needs convincing is you.
