So! I quit Facebook at the end of September and I’m now a few days into month three of withdrawal. By “quit”, I mean deactivate, not delete. I’m pretty sure it won’t last, but a break to contemplate my identity can’t hurt.
I suspect that this is just part of my recent move to consolidate a noisy, redundant and sometimes stressful online life. Around the same time, I permanently closed accounts on Reddit, Linkedin, Gawker, Foursquare and others. Thankfully none of this exposed terrifying gaps in my identity.
Facebook, however, is proving to be an indispensable, well-missed tool, a fact which I’ve found both amazing and horrifying.
On one hand, I’m pleased with the peace that my deactivation has brought me. I’m decluttered, free of all news, both good and bad! I continue to exist, minus the background process dedicated to “oh shit, Erin from 8th grade math had a baby and its poop is a weird color”.
On the other hand, my social life has kind of faded away. I’m no longer in the know. I’m irrelevant. I miss events because I was never invited. I can’t even stalk! I’ve been tempted to sign in and browse as Paul, which completely sidesteps the benefits of deleting my own account.
Let me describe the reasons I quit:
Too much noise, too much signal. No matter how many times you check Facebook, the pile of interesting stuff it provides to you never, ever shrinks. Perusing that pile daily is exhausting and you turn into Pavlov’s dog, endlessly refreshing even when nothing’s going on, waiting for someone to give you your next voyeuristic rush. There you have untold minutes wasted, productivity shot to hell, and the behavioral tic of instinctively typing “fac” into your URL bar until your brain catches up with your fingers.
I don’t like depending on a single tool. Facebook clearly wants to be the only website you ever use. Financial advisers encourage people to diversify their assets for good reason: if a single loss occurs, it’s offset by your other investments. Now imagine that everyone in your life only uses Facebook (probably not too far from reality) and you’ve lost access to your Facebook account. Want to check out your friend’s new baby photos, chat with technophobe family members or find your friends’ phone numbers? Good luck, because now you’re dependent on everyone to carve out a special case just for you. You weirdo.
Their questionable privacy practices freak me out. Facebook scrapes, saves, analyzes and sells many pieces of data contributed by its users. Ultimately, it’s a free website and you’re the product. I’m much more comfortable confining and contributing original content to a space over which I know I have control.
I’m delighted that a handful of friends noticed my disappearance from their feeds and were compelled to email me to ask what happened. I’m thankful for these folks, yet left wondering how I can stay in touch with everyone else.