Today is the twentieth anniversary of my Facebook account, and I deleted it this morning, along with my Instagram account. I’ve been spending far too much time paying attention to other people’s lives, and not nearly enough time paying attention to my own. I’m a statistic: being chronically online has caused my mental health to suffer. I’ve become a kind of weird Facebook Hermit, hiding out in my house, going on intermittently for my own amusement about how much I like Peanuts comics and Sanford & Son and The Tragically Hip and Ginger, the woodchuck who lives across the road and eats clover in our backyard in the summer, or complaining for my own amusement about how much I dislike Donald Trump and football and Nicolas Cage and the asshole I got stuck behind while I was prairie doggin on my way home from Kroger.

When I wasn’t posting dumb shit on Facebook, I was angrily reading comments so I could feel superior to strangers. I’m 47 years old, y’all, I don’t have the time or energy to devote to being pissed off that some random guy with a “Let’s Go Brandon” image for a profile pic on the Louder Than Life fan group says Slayer is overrated and Acid Bath sucks. That guy is wrong about a lot more than his shitty musical taste whether or not I know about his opinions or his existence, and besides, it’s easier on my blood pressure if I don’t know about either. Plus there are way bigger things to get pissed off about (see also the real-time, real-life documentary series 2025: We’re Hosed, starring Nazi billionaires, religious fundamentalists, and dozens upon dozens of sex pests with a proclivity for violence).

Speaking of Nazi billionaires, I used to also have a Twitter account, which I pretty much only used to promote this blog and harass Ted Cruz. I deleted that account the instant I read that the present owner was buying the app. The decision wasn’t difficult, as I never like the format of Twitter anyway. Character limits are not conducive to my being long-winded, as evidenced by this very blog.

Anyway, I cruised along happily with Facebook and Instagram for a while, feeling somewhat morally superior, until right around the time it was announced that Suckerberg was donating money to the Orange Husk’s inauguration. That was my first real indication that my time with my beloved social media security blanket had to come to an end. The events of Inauguration Day itself solidified it for me. Facebook had to go, just as soon as I could muster the energy to start the process – no small feat in and of itself, what with the year of January being so emotionally and physically exhausting.

Speaking of Instagram, when I wasn’t posting dumb shit there, I was watching reels of cute animals and stand-up comedians and clips from Regular Show and Curb Your Enthusiasm, which is a way of saying that Instagram was much better for my mental health than was Facebook, but unfortunately, they’re both owned by Zuckerberg, so they both had to go fuckerberg off.

It’s gonna be weird to not have those things at my fingertips to kill time during commercial breaks, or when Sheila goes to the terlit while we’re out at a restaurant, or while I wait for a doctor’s appointment. I’ve automatically lost touch with several people that I only knew through Facebook – people with whom I could’ve certainly enjoyed a cup of coffee or a beer IRL, but who I have no good reason to call or text. I’ll particularly miss a couple of folks from a Bill Hicks fan group and a few fellow metalheads from around the globe. There are some former co-workers who live in various places around the country who are evermore banished to the land of wind and ghosts, unless I happen to run into them while they’re in town visiting someone else.

Facebook has admittedly been good for some things. I have a friend in Australia who I met in the late 90’s on Bolt, an early social media website. We chatted and emailed on that site, as well as exchanged letters and phone calls a few times in the early days (one time her dad answered the phone, and when I asked him to tell her I called, he said “alright mate,” and I accidentally squealed a little bit), then our lives drifted apart for several years, until Myspace (and later, Facebook) brought us back together. Anyway, I was able to get her contact info before deleting, and I’m very glad about that. It’s fuckin wild to think that we’ve been friends for 26 years and have never met in person.

In addition to bringing people back into my life, social media has allowed me to show my true self to the world without the terrible inconvenience of being looked at while I do it. That’s an important thing for a socially awkward introvert such as myself to have. The amount that I dislike being looked at while I talk is unfathomable. I’m totally comfortable around a few key people, but for the most part, if I’m talking, and you’re looking at me, all I’m thinking about is how uncomfortable I am with the fact that you’re looking at me while I’m talking. That’s obviously a thing I need to get past, and I am working on it, but personal change doesn’t come easily or naturally to me. I can appreciate spontaneity from time to time, but I like my routines, and they are hard for me to break. But it’s like they say, knowing is half the battle.

Another not insignificant benefit of Facebook and Instagram is the added reach it gave my blog. It’ll be interesting to see how my stats differ without having those accounts to promote from. And while I know that in the short term my total views will take a hit, I’m happy that one less billionaire is making money off my work. I’m sure I’ll write more about all this another time, but until then, why not subscribe for updates, and/or follow me on Bluesky (@clockwisecirclepit.bsky.social)? Bluesky is pretty much exactly like Twitter as far as I can tell, so I doubt I’ll use it much, but at the very least, you’ll find out when I’ve posted something new here.

Thanks for reading!