Like previous such breaks, I have to say my early pandemic breather was as refreshing as it was revivifying. As I was thinking about all of this early today in the wake of a couple of very unpleasant social media interactions yesterday, my mind drifted back to something I posted more than three years ago: "'Why do you come here?': Dispatch from distraction." In re-reading that post, I began to wonder why I didn't stick with my determination then to discontinue using platforms that often make me miserable. I am referring specifically to Facebook and Twitter, but mostly Facebook, a platform for which I seem to have a very unhealthy, that is, sick affinity.
I need to point out that I am not claiming victim status. Neither am I inviting you to dig how sensitive and introverted I am. On the contrary, when it comes to arguing and provoking, in too many instances, I give as good or better than I get. Therein lies the problem. Arguing online has peculiar nastiness all its own. It seems to bring out the worst in virtually everyone. It certainly brings out the worst in me. Maybe this is because of the fact that you can't punch someone over the internet or perhaps because we cannot see the effect our cruel words have the other person. It would be dishonest of me to ignore the fact that I have, at times, been attacked quite savagely by people I barely know. These people were not content to correct me or express a contrary opinion and simply argue the point. They felt the need to denigrate, insult, and accuse me of things that are so bizarre and irrelevant to the point of dispute that I am left questioning their sanity or wondering about the deep source of their hostility towards someone they barely know.
I don't mind reiterating here that I suffer from depression. As a result, I have to look after myself. I realize that no amount of "self-care" will keep the black dog at forever. He will turn up again sooner or later. On a side note a friend of mine, one of those with whom I will miss interacting, who is a priest for the Church of England, recently wrote a pastoral letter to his parishes on depression: "Black Dog."
I don't mind admitting that even in my mid-50s I often struggle with being impetuous and imprudent. I mention my age because I can remember thinking at times that these things would "naturally" moderate as I grew older. In reality and to some extent, it's who I am. I also realize that I need to keep a check on myself and enlist the help of trusted others to help me. I've found over way too many years that certain forms of social media exacerbate these tendencies. That said, I find it far easier than I used to accept correction and criticism. Like most people, however, it helps if the person criticizing and/or correcting me does so respectfully and charitably. This seems like a good place to mention that what precipitated my 2016 post was reading an article by Andrew Sullivan: "I Used To Be a Human Being."
I am a slow learner. I don't just type that as a way to be charmingly self-deprecating. I am truly slow. To give you an example: back in the summer of 2000, during a season of very intense prayer driven by some unsettling circumstances happening in my life, it became clear to me that I should stop drinking alcohol. At that point, apart from occasionally overindulging, my use of alcohol wasn't terribly problematic. As a result, I quit for a few months and then picked it up again. Five years later and for the next 5-6 years after that, my drinking became problematic. For the following 4-5 years, while I tapered off a good deal, drinking was still something I should not have been doing. I successfully quit for about a year but then convinced myself I could moderate. While it didn't reach the problematic levels it had previously, I was still dogged by it.
Lest I exaggerate, at no point did my drinking rise to the levels most people associate with problem drinking. Because the word "alcoholic" is misunderstood by most people, I don't use the word to describe myself. Why? Because, as John Waters pointed out: to most people "an alcoholic is someone lying in the gutter clutching a bottle of wine wrapped in a newspaper." It was never like that for me, not even close. What was it like? Well, at least for now, that's something I prefer to keep to myself. I think it would surprise most people ("most" does not mean "all") to know that it was ever a problem for me. Finally, on the day after Christmas 2018- the feast of my patron saint, Stephen, the patron of this blog (Pray for us!)- I determined to quit for good. As of yesterday, I am 494 days alcohol-free. Well, I do receive communion but that doesn't present any difficulties for me. Hey, it only took 18 and-a-half years!
Based on: Hotel Room, by Edward Hopper (1931). Photo: Kim Dong-kyu from New York magazine- same picture I used for my first dispatch
My social media use isn't that different from my alcohol use. No matter how many times I think I can moderate my use of it, I find myself back in the same disparaged state. Because I am a passionate person, which is neither good nor bad, it's just part of who I am, and so it can be either depending on how I employ it, I am someone for whom half-measures do not to work. I have always admired people who seem to be possessed of a natural and healthy moderation. In light of what I shared above, a three-and-a-half-year turn around isn't too bad!
Re-reading "'Why do you come here?': Dispatch from distraction" was one of those experiences when I realized that sometimes after gaining some wisdom and insight I become stupider. The past three or so years have demonstrated that amply. Anyway, all of this is to say that, like 26 December 2018, today marks a turning point for me. My real life, as opposed to my virtual non-life, is not only rich and full but very demanding, especially as I take on the responsibility of directing the diaconate of my diocese in addition to being a husband, father, serving my parish community, and my full-time job.
I plan to keep blogging with at least the same regularity I've been doing it for the past few years. My reason for this is that, unlike other things, I find value in blogging. Over the past 5 or so years, I have been successful in moderating this activity. I guess I have to type this for because, internally, I am brutal with myself: comments remain open albeit moderated. I am not willing to let all manner of hell break loose in this tiny bit of cyberspace to which I've laid claim. And so, while blogging is not a way of avoiding being criticized or corrected, I will ensure that these things are done constructively and charitably. Καθολικός διάκονος is- I'll use the term- a safe space for myself and for others. Blogging is a way for me to express my thoughts and opinions on matters that interest me. I make no claim to be infallible. I'll also note that I enjoy hearing and reading other points-of-view. But if you just can't tolerate what I have to say, feel free to ignore me and move on. It will be better for us both, trust me. Feel free to ignore me with my blessing
Farewell Twitter and Facebook! It hasn't been real. It's been virtual but too often really awful. This decision is the result of my own judgment on myself and not on anyone else. Just because I can't enjoy it in moderation due to my own proclivities and sensitivities, doesn't mean others can't and very often do make good use of it. I still plan to post the odd photo on Instagram, to post here and to link to these posts via various platforms. Those who know me well enough have my email and/or phone number. For those close enough and who know me quite well, I am usually up for a conversation over a cup of coffee.
As with my 2016 post, I'll end this with an appropriate song, from the lyrics of which the title is taken. While it's a Van Morrison song, I really like Phil Keaggy's version of it. Of course, as no less than my own pastor let me know when I expressed this opinion, it's okay by me if you prefer listening to the original artist perform it.
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