Why I Left the Cult of Facebook.

My recent decision to no longer have a presence on Facebook was met with great incredulity from my friends. I laid out my thoughts and poured out my heart in the following message to my friends:

“Thank you to everyone who has checked on me the last couple of days. I am fine, but I have come to the decision that it’s better for me to no longer have a presence on Facebook. This has been a long time coming and I think all that know me are aware of this. There is something about this site, and how people use it, that lends itself to toxicity. Facebook has become this kind of collective consciousness that seems to bring out the absolute worst in people. Never in my life has a perfect stranger walked up to me and called me a nasty name, but it happens on Facebook all the time. And while I don’t associate with people like that, apparently my friends do. These are “friends of friends” that act this way, and it nearly cost me a decade long friendship with someone I care for deeply. I will not let that happen. And I am not without sin here. I have typed things into the nameless, faceless void that I would not say in a real life situation. I am guilty too. That is not who I am. That is not who I want to be. For years I have not posted anything political, not even a joke or a meme, yet somehow a feel-good story I posted became grounds for two people, who do not know one another at all, to have a heated political discussion. I am over it. I will not be part of this mass hallucination anymore. Facebook is no different than a cult in that regards; this digital temple has unheard drums and unseen censers heavy with intoxicating fumes. And it makes people say and do things they otherwise would not. Something that was billed as a way to keep in touch with friends leaves me feeling angry and sad. All the time. Why would I be a part of something that makes me feel that way? That assaults my mind with the unsolicited, emotional, knee-jerk responses from other people. From people I don’t even know (or care to know). It’s not all social media that is like this. I can open Instagram without the psychic assault that Facebook brings. This particular collective consciousness we have created is monstrous. Perhaps I am overly sensitive, perhaps I am “triggered”. Perhaps you would call me a “snowflake”. All of that is fine and within your prerogative to opine. I’ll be downloading my pictures and closing this wretched book for good very soon. I won’t add a TL;DR, because quite frankly, if your attention span is so limited you cannot bring yourself to read a couple of paragraphs wherein someone pours their actual thoughts, you are part of the problem.”

Some of the responses I received were a little shocking. It seemed as if my friends were trying to coerce me to keep using a social media site that was making me sad and angry. They wanted me to keep using Facebook, even though I told them in no uncertain terms that it was affecting my mental health. I was told to “just stop commenting on things” and “just block content you don’t like”. It just makes no sense to me to be part of something, only to not use it. Why would I do that? When I said that I loved and cherished them still, and that I would write a blog with pictures of the family, so that they could keep in touch, I received such responses as: “No one reads blogs anymore.” “I only use Facebook.” “I don’t have time to go and look at a different site.”

Ladies and gentlemen, in what other kind of situation do your “friends” attempt to pressure you to stay against your will? In what other situation do your “friends” coerce you into being part of something you don’t want to be a part of, with threat of isolation? A cult. Facebook is a cult.

Here’s the straight and low-down: anyone who wants to keep in touch with me can do so. Right here. Or on the phone. Or through snail mail (I absolutely love writing and receiving letters). If that is too much trouble, so be it.

Back in 1998, years before Facebook launched and longer still before it became the all-encompassing, tendrilled monster of social media, there was a Japanese cyberpunk anime called Serial Experiments Lain. It explored themes of connection and consciousness, through a fictional, digital world called “The Wired”, which clearly was supposed to be the internet. As I look back on that show, I can’t help but think the writers were onto something.

As for me, my mind has been so much quieter, so much clearer since I stopped looking at Facebook. I feel free, unchained, unburdened by the non-consensual assault of other people’s every thought. I’m going to let Queen Aretha say the rest.