No Room At The Inn

So I decide to relax.

Yes, decide. For me, relaxing is something I have to decide to do, not a condition I was born with. I got the fidget gene, not the deep breath gene.

Facebook had already been invited to dinner in my dating world so I couldn't exactly ask it to leave the table now. That would be self-imposed social isolation. It was a lifeline. When Scott broke up with me - correction - when Scott neglected to break up with me and flew the coop without a signal from the tower - it was what connected me to people. The news spread fast and my friends rallied. I can't imagine how I would have managed without the friendship - and I can't imagine how long it would have taken for word to spread that I 'd needed them. Calls? Letters?  It would have taken months of whispering down the lane.  With Facebook it took an instant.

I thought to send and inbox message to Zuckerburg to tell him.  It's a better story than that Tweet that prevented a suicide. All I had to do was change the tenor of my posts and the people that mattered moved in close to make sure I was okay.  And moved in closer when they realized I was anything but okay.

So I need to relax and let Facebook be what it is supposed to be - a way to connect and stay connected.  A way to feel the intimacy of friendship when miles and years separate you from one another. A way to watch your friends' children grow up and reach milestones when you've never actually experienced the joy of having met them.

It is not a tool to be used to bully. It is not a tool to be used to exclude. It is not a tool to be used to spy and investigate and confront and interfere.

And it is not a mirror of what is really happening between two people. It is a fun house mirror, and an illusion.

What matters is what is really happening. But that is sometimes hard to tell - with all the interference from the other guest at the table.