{*Did you know you can write on Elephant? Here’s how—big changes: How to Write & Make Money or at least Be of Benefit on Elephant. ~ Waylon}

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On the morning of March 17th, 2024, I woke up and ran through my normal “first thing in the morning routine,” which included opening my phone and checking my social media accounts, thinking to myself, “I should like, go outside and breathe some fresh air or meditate first thing rather than scroll mindlessly through my socials hoping for a pop of endorphins,” and like any bad habit that has more control over me than my willpower to stop, the thoughts lingered in the background while the glow of my phone before the sun comes up is the first light I see.

On this day, though, something different took place. As I lay there in bed (and not paying attention) to the sun waking up the pink and orange hues right outside the window, I was masterfully swiping, scrolling, deleting, and face-id-ing my way to Facebook, the app that never sleeps and the virtual hangout that shows my age perhaps more than my crows’ feet does. I was met with a much different greeting than the dimly lit and ad-littered home feed. “Your page has been temporarily disabled,” Facebook told me and then went on to explain that some rogue Instagram account (that I had never heard of) violated community standards so my page was taken down and was under review.

Facebook broke this information to me without any hint of remorse; they were not apologetic, and there was not a single ounce of thoughtfulness, consideration of the last 15 years of our relationship, or even support in trying to help me navigate my feelings of shock at the news that my virtual identity had been compromised.

I was bewildered about what could have happened. In that moment, the solution-oriented, clipboard-carrying one of me* emerged from my inner frenzy and impending downward spiral to confidently declare that she would get to the bottom of this ASAP!

In the stillness of the early morning, the only thing you could hear was me shuffling around in the dark trying not to panic moving from mobile to laptop to continue this investigation. My laptop was dead. Great. I struggled with the plug of my computer behind the couch, my mind trying not to think the worst as the metal of the plug scraped the plastic outlet cover before going in.

I was met with the same screen on my laptop as I saw on my phone. The minimal information I was given informed me that my account was under investigation that I could appeal and that I would be notified within a few days if I was to be permanently banned. I bit my lip and my eyes stung with tears. The tears came from somewhere other than the fear of losing a social identity I had been carefully curating for 15-plus years (more on this later). The tears came from a place of knowing it was already gone, from a place of knowing it was time to get free of this addiction, from a place of being called to create and join the ranks of folks who are finding new ways to communicate and create community both on and offline, and from a place of great relief to potentially have this platform cut from my life in a way that left no going back.

I also was not home, scrolling in the safety and security of my own bed. I was staying with my teacher and her five-year-old son. I had been planning this trip to see her for months and we had just over 24 hours to be together. We were going to a sweat lodge that morning (my first sweat). We were going to spend time in nature and in prayer. I had been looking forward to being together.

While I did not want to discount the importance of what was happening for me at that moment, I also knew that if I spiraled out into “full-blown investigator mode fueled by the injustice of why this was happening and a relentless desire to get to the bottom of it,” it could possibly maybe affect the vibe of the day. It was here again that I was met with the mythopoetic invitation of this moment. There are things in all of our lives that we’d be better for if we just let go already. That is not to say that removing things, addictions, people, relationships, and social media accounts is not without consequence but that they are not serving a meaningful (enough) purpose any longer to warrant the time and energy we give to them. We are not in right relationship with them.

There are a lot of things I want to do with my life and my time that I am not doing. There are soul projects that have been calling me for years while I lie distracted in my bed scrolling and searching for meaning inside a soul-less app designed to make you keep scrolling and keep searching for meaning without ever getting anywhere or having anything real and substantial to show for it. These are not some great revelations and insights I have discovered in the three weeks post-Facebook. I have known them for a long time. That’s the cringy truth, folks. We do things that aren’t that great for us, that aren’t making us great, and we don’t have any great reason why we won’t stop doing them… until perhaps some rogue Instagram handle hacks your account and gets you banned from Facebook. Thanks.

If I vowed to avenge this grave mistake right then and there, it would not just be the day with my teacher I would lose, but trying to fight to keep life in something that clearly was not adding to my life was not “it.” It was not the way forward. If I did all the things to get my Facebook account back, it would continue to take away from other, more meaningful pursuits that beckoned.

When sharing this story, it’s been sweet to feel other people’s “infuriation” on my behalf. Folks want me to fight for my account back! What about all my pictures? What about the memories? What about the relationships? Yep, all of that stings for sure. The ache of attachment…it’s real. I’ve been grieving, and as each day passes, I am softened to the real loss of a virtual identity I’ve had for over 15 years. A death of an identity. Death by Facebook.

Here’s a list of some things I am grieving the loss of:

>> Memory #1: My father passed away in 2021. Seeing the memories of that time for the last three years has been an important part of my healing journey. They have also been an invitation to revisit my grief and continue to honor my relationship with him.

>> Memory #2: All the pictures of my children—from Ellis’ birth to the present moment in his life to meeting my daughter when she was 15 and attending her wedding last year.

>> Relationships that take place mostly on social media. Friends and family who I deeply care about and being able to be a small part of their lives on Facebook has offered connection where there would not be any.

>> I’ve always had a passion for promoting things I believe in and Facebook was my main partner in crime to spread awareness for events whether it is for my classes, art shows, or the good work that happens in organizations I believe in. I just moved to a new community and I rely on this platform to support me in getting the word.

>> Community. While online community has drastically changed since the pre-ad days, I have created a career born from the belief that meaningful connections can occur online. This theory was tested and proven time and time again in the laboratories of Facebook feeds, pages, and groups. It was an exciting time working alongside social media pioneers and I was a fully invested and engaged part of that.

>> When someone searches for me on Facebook it says “Content Not Available.” This one chokes me up. It does not speak to the aforementioned fact that I was an enthusiastic early adopter of the platform who was wrongfully accused of violating the community—something I have always held as the center and sacred. It does not give folks an alternate way to reach out to me if they have something important to share. It’s a hollow and shallow virtual grave. No flowers. No dash. No inspiring quote to leave behind.

I always like to give the bad news first. I believe it will all end on a good note, so here we go. Here’s life for a Facebook addict, post-Facebook:

>> I would not be here writing this 1587-word and counting essay.

>> I have done some form of exercise just about every day.

>> My “screen time” in general has been cut down by two-thirds (still too much and no I will not share how much time my phone tells me I am staring into it each day, but I am determined to keep trimming away).

>> There’s been a creative project in me for a while and I’ve given myself a real and beautiful beginning to it. It’s living through me now and it almost feels as if I chose this/chose me over the latter. It’s been a massively empowering feeling.

>> I am opening up to a much deeper level of trust and support and being held and guided. Without the immediate gratification of engagement, pinging someone quickly to see if they are planning to come to an event, and disrupting some of my own patterns of how and where I see my value and worth…I have been called (forced, lol) into a curiosity around “what else is possible?”

>> Social Media is just not good for us. Period. End of story. And, I am still on Instagram soooo…just sharing a general PSA.

>> I can feel a redirect of my energies. I am noticing an increased capacity for focus, for doing nothing, for cuddling my son, for picking up the dream that does not come with an immediate heart of encouraging comment, but the satisfaction of working the inner muscle of determination to strive toward something more, more mysterious, more beautiful, more challenging, more real.

It felt really important to write this. Whether anyone reads it or not. It felt important for me to honor in some way all of the time, energy, creativity, and belief I put into this platform that it could make a positive difference in the world, in my world, in the world of the community, and the dreams I was a part of building. That’s what we are all here to do. Keep dreaming a new world into being, and just as much as we are called to birth the new, we must also know when to let go of what is ready to be released. And, friends, this death has me looking for all the places that are not truly lighting me up. It has me questioning “Where am I less alive than I want to be? Where have I let the spark of life dim to the dull glow of a screen?”

Here’s to building the new and letting go of the old. Cheers, Facebook. It’s been real…until I wasn’t.

*one of me refers to the many personas we have inside of us at any given time that make up our wholeness. I happen to Hey an inner persona that I refer to as “Clipboard Jessica.” She gets sh*t done, is known far and wide, and is invoked with great reverence and respect. She can also be a real pain in the ass when she’s not needed. Imagine trying to sit in a 140-degree sweat lodge, singing and praying, with your face pressed against the earth to try and sip some cool air and there’s a nagging voice in your brain trying to outline a plan to work through the Facebook appeal system and draft your appeal letter and also reach out to every friend you know who has also been banned to find out what they did and oh, maybe we know someone who knows someone who works at Facebook and can help us. Yeah, you see? It’s all about timing with the mighty Clipboard…

Stay in touch! (See my author’s bio for my email and Instagram handle.)

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