likes | S.K. Nicholls

I had a social media meltdown last night on Facebook in particular. I can’t say that I have Twitter figured out yet, so I don’t spend a lot of time on there.

I started with Facebook the first day they opened to the public. My kids were in college and it was another way to exchange photos with them quickly and see how they were doing. I had friends and family on there. Maybe 80 people. I didn’t need 400 really. There are not 400 people in this world I really care to keep up with quite that closely.

Facebook, as you know, has changed over the years. Groups were added. People set up advertisement pages you could like and get info from time to time.

The ad pages have gone wild sending out dozens of posts a day, probably mechanically through some automated hootsuite-like operation. Most of the reader writer groups have turned into spam mobiles rather than actual discussion forums for people to discuss books.

Despite turning off all notifications, Facebook was slamming my newsfeed with strangers on a regular basis. It got so bad this past week that every time I signed onto Facebook I had this perpetual feed of authors promoting their books….dozens and dozens of them. People I don’t know and have never heard of. Seriously, if I want a book to read, I should be able to go to a group site and scan them myself for something that looks interesting. But having them slamming me on my newsfeed thirty or forty authors two to six times a day was ridiculous.

It got so bad that I couldn’t FIND any of my friend’s posts. I would scroll past twenty or thirty book posts just to find one post from a family member or friend. Then twenty or thirty book promo posts till the next family or friend post. I could spend an hour just finding five close friends most recent posts.

I really wish I could get rid of the gamers also…but that’s another subject.

Suggested posts that Facebook sends are a nuisance but, so far, there are not that many of them.

Pages I have “liked” get to be obnoxious sometimes.

So last night…I pulled out of fifteen Facebook Groups. The only one I stayed in was my writers’ group page, so I can keep up with my local writer peeps.

I unfriended a bunch of folk who bothered me with religious or political posts. I have political opinions, but posting something just so you can be mean and hateful in comments makes me not want to care about your opinions. The fact that you go downtown and wash the homeless people’s feet, pass out food and hygiene products while reading scripture is something I will applaud you for once…but when it turns into daily grandiose grandstanding, you don’t appear very humble and that just sort of negates the whole process to me. (And really, in those 250 pictures, you should have been wearing gloves, and changing the water for their health and yours.)

I “unliked” a bunch of pages that I had previously “liked” because you abuse the privilege of being invited into my home. You talk so much nobody else can get a word in edgewise. Yes, some of my favorite people…like Anne Rice and George Takei were among them. Send me one or two notifications a day, but ten or twelve and, honestly, I’ve just had enough.

Anyway, I logged out, and this morning I logged back in. There you all were, my peeps, my family, my friends. Things look a bit more normal on there again.

If I unliked or unfriended you in my mad frenzy and you miss me. Let me know. I may have done it in a heated moment by accident. If you don’t miss me, it probably wasn’t meant to be.

I may have just committed social media suicide, but my peace of mind has been salvaged in the process.

Am I just doing something wrong?

I tried adjusting privacy and notification settings to no avail.

Is there a better way?

A psychiatrist once told me, “Statistically speaking, you should be dead.” A long time ago, after suffering a multitude of tragedies, I went to see a psychiatrist on the advice of a friend who felt I was too happy, and thus, there must be something wrong with me.

I didn’t quite know how to take what that psychiatrist had to say to me, or what my friend had to say. I dismissed them, but agreed to go into therapy. I stayed in that therapy with that same therapist from the age of 19 to the age of 36, when I got divorced and moved to Florida.

He was an old man, this therapist, even when we first met, and reminded me of my grandfather. He served as a sounding board, a sort of third party perspective. He studied Tibetan Buddhism, and used to talk to me in parables and stories, hoping I would gain some insight. He never gave advice.

We didn’t reveal any deep, dark, suppressed secrets, or make any startling revelations about my life, except for one. Since my childhood, I have always had a tendency to focus on the good things, the happy times, the joys in my life, rather than the sorrows.

When I decided to get divorced, all he said was, “What in the hell took you so very long?” I told him how I had wanted my children to stay together (unlike my sisters and I) and not be separated or have to deal with step siblings or step parents. I moved to Florida, and received a package in the mail from my therapist. It was three books on Tibetan Buddhism. He died on the day he sent me that package, (noted by the postmark on the package). I discovered this when I called his office to thank him. I cried.

Well, I am telling you this little story to tell you about statistics and why they are virtually meaningless to me. I don’t look at my stats very often. In fact, only twice since I began blogging in April, 2013.

It is far more important to me to build relationships with real people online than to make the numbers gleam.

I had a post about, “Making Your Gravatar Work for You.” It took about five minutes to make that post. It is my second most viewed (120) and clicked on post of all times. 58 people have “liked” it. That’s great! It was meant to be helpful. (Second only to my nudism post, “Uninhibited?”, which people might just be curious about. [131 views and only 32 likes].)

I made a post a couple of days ago about my “WIP: I Need Help Concerning Nicknames”. It didn’t get reblogged. It only had 40 views, only 13 people “liked” it, and yet it is one of the most meaningful posts I have ever created. It wasn’t done on a whim, like the gravater post that I made in 5 mins, simply because I was annoyed, (that post had many comments expressing gratitude BTW). It wasn’t a post that took me hours to prepare with many uploaded, captioned photos, like some of my feature posts.

It was a post wherein we were engaged in meaningful dialog, where people discussed the use of nicknames, their preferences as both readers and writers, how to write nicknames into a literary work, and the creative process of writing. Now don’t get me wrong. I love it when you “like” my posts, whether you comment or not. That is great. It means maybe you actually read it and enjoyed it, and that is a large part of what I am here for.

I was, a couple of days ago, really in a serious mini-crisis that I could not get out of alone. It was causing writer’s block, and no therapist could have resolved that crisis. I just want to say that you, the people who engage me in comments with your meaningful contributions, well, you just make my world go around in this place called the blogosphere. I am writing again, excited to be doing it. I am motivated and having fun. Thank you.

The stats really don’t matter. The people do.