Last night on my way home from visiting my brother and sister-in-law, I deactivated my Facebook account. With no fanfare or pre-announcement, I just took myself off the blasted thing.
Why? Well, I’m in a place where I want things to enhance my life, and I’m not sure Facebook is enhancing it. I know for sure that my phone isn’t completely, either. In some respects my phone is; I’m loving the podcasts I’m subscribing to; I love being able to email from it, when I choose to. But out of the umpteen applications I’ve downloaded to it, I maybe use 10. If that. Our contracts are up for renewal in September/October, and I’m seriously considering if I need a smart phone at all, or should I just have a phone and a generic media player?
I’d taken the Facebook app off a couple of weeks ago, just leaving the messenger one on. But then I’d find myself looking it on the Safari app instead. I just wanted to look at it on the computer, but then when I get to the computer, I’ve got other things I need to do, and I’m sorry, Facebook isn’t something I need to do. It’s something someone else has decided I need, and my poor head is getting sick and tired of being somewhere else, when I need to be here. Now. Typing this, while you’re reading it later. I read a Jeeves and Wooster book on the train into and out of work last week, and relished every word of it. I’ve a pile of books beside my bed I’ve been wanting to read. If I’m ‘plugged’ into a media device, I’m wasting the time I could be doing something that I enjoy, instead of faffing.
I called my GP on Friday, I’ve been given permission to up my anti-depressants, but I’m meeting with them this Wednesday to arrange for some counselling. I am fully aware that while I’m working in the city, I’m spreading myself too thin. I am also fully aware that when I find another job, my problems will come with me. But the majority of the things I’m struggling with in my life now, will be left behind when I walk out the door of where I’m working now. I won’t have to worry about management hiding significant operation events from the Board, including covering up OH&S issues, I won’t worry about the tired, strained, grey faces of my colleagues as yet another preposterous deadline is put upon us as a company to meet.
Primarily, I don’t bring my work home with me, but it’s my colleagues, and the empathy I have for them which is killing me. And yes I know I shouldn’t worry about it, or them, but that IS me. I hate seeing people in pain and not being able to help them.
This is a bit disjointed, and I’m sorry. But I am, although I’m working on it, working on getting my head together. Working on me. Reading about other people’s lives when I can barely concentrate on my own is not helping. I hope you understand.