NextDoor, Facebook, and Why I Will Never Delete You

I've made up my mind on my beliefs. I know what I believe about God, politics, violence, gay marriage and many other hot button issues.

That doesn't mean I've stopped listening, though.

In our part of Fort Worth, we have a social media website for neighbors called NextDoor. Ideally it's a place where you can share information that builds community. In the perfect situation, you would use the website to recommend a local plumber, to share information on a municipal concern, and to get to know your neighbors better.

In reality it's nothing like that.

There are a number of people who post about missing or found pets, and I always read their posts with care so I can watch out for the dog or cat. Others promote their garage sale, which is nice because they share pictures.

By far, the majority of the website, though, has been reduced to petty grumbling. Currently there's a 100+ comment stream about code compliance officers.  Basically the city is asking for volunteers to help alert them to code violations in our neighborhoods. This has opened the door to people throwing around words like "Nazi", "Big Brother," and "criminals." Irritated, others have commented that they will now cancel their account.

Not me. 

On Facebook I have a wide variety of "friends." Many share my outlook on life.  Many don't. I have a few friends that post opinions that consistently make me uncomfortable. Some use their Facebook page to spew hate, inciting others to delete their imaginary friendship.

Not me.

With the increasing personalization of society, it's easy to surround myself with people that only agree with me.  I can choose to read news that only enforces my views on the world. I can subscribe to blogs that share my opinion.  I can limit social media friendships to those who stand on the same soapboxes. I can schedule my social appearances, attend my church, and spend all my free time surrounding myself with sameness.

But sometimes I get sick of my own voice.

www.sxc.hu

Instead, I want to listen. I want to hear all sides of the story. I want to be exposed to opinions that make me uncomfortable. I want to read the comment stream that dissects petty complaints.

Listening to the other side reminds me of the size of my world. How small my world is when mine is the only voice heard and everyone agrees with me. When I hear you share an opinion I disagree with, I am reminded of the existence of other views and voices. I pay more attention to what I am passionate about when I hear others share their passions. 

I remind myself of the humanness of everyone. I am connected to real people and not just the imaginary "other side." I recognize how different our worlds are when you are passionate about the concrete on your pathway matching the concrete on your driveway. 

When I am exposed to the stories and concerns of others, I realize my concerns today won't be my concerns tomorrow. One day soon I won't be worried about homework or kissing injured knees.  My life with change.

I conciously listen to the other side of the story, but sometimes my ears get tired.

On the neighborhood website, I noticed a pattern with a particular user.  This gentleman was quick to grumble about any topic listed. It began to wear on even me, who was initially happy to read his views. I kept sharing with Adam how annoyed I was at this particular man's postings and complaints. I mulled over blocking his posts so I could avoid him altogether, but that didn't feel right.  Instead, I resorted to thanking him.  For every post, similar to Facebook's "like" button, there is a "thank" button. Every time that neighbor posts something, I go in and click "thank." At first he continued his three posts a day barrage of complaints, but I am happy to report that is no longer. Instead, his postings now are mostly positive and helpful.  I do realize this is a mixture of killing him with kindness and being a smart-aleck, but it made me feel better.

I truly do want to hear other sides to the story. I want to surround myself with different rather than same-same. I want to constantly expand my horizons and my world view. I want to put a face with that issue. I want to remember that the "other side" is real people and not just a "bunch of lunatics." However, my compassionate listening can only go so far when faced with constant complaining.  I might just have to thank you and move on to the next topic.  However, I won't ever delete you.

Putting Facebook in the Corner

My normal routine is to get up at 5 and suck down coffee while reading email, Facebook, and my Bible study lesson, and then write or workout, depending on the day.  Then all the family wakes up and we all start rolling together.
On Tuesday this week, I was checking Facebook and before I knew it, I was feeling grouchy and realized I had just spent 40 precious minutes reading superficial accounts of my friends' lives.  I counted backward and tried to remember a time when Facebook had brightened my day, and it had been a long while.  It was time for a change.
I do see the value of Facebook.  I can keep all my friends and family near and far updated on our lives.  I can offer some love through electronic means to a friend who is depressed or overwhelmed.  I do use it for that, but when I allow anything to take up nearly half of my alone time and I don't feel better afterward?  It's time for a change.
I decided on a Facebook fast. So the rest of the day Tuesday and carrying on to Friday morning, I stayed off of Facebook. I had to have a few exceptions. Social media is my job at work, so without looking at the news feed, I updated our status.  I received an alert that my sister wrote me and I logged on to reply. A friend of mine invited me to her book club, and I needed to RSVP.  Other than that, I stayed away.
This morning I broke the fast and logged on. I decided that since I hadn't been on in several days, I would allot 15 minutes to reading the news feed.  After 7 minutes, I was done.  Of course there were updates that I missed, but I'm okay with that.
Adam and I choose not to have smart phones, so the allure of checking Facebook at a restaurant when real people surround you is lost to us.  However, we have WiFi in the house, and lately, I've found myself updating my news feed while I was cooking dinner.
I categorize and prioritize my activities into levels of life-giving and life-draining.  Making dinner in my beautiful kitchen with music playing and kids dancing is life-giving.  Stopping this to check Facebook is life-draining.
This week, I put social media back in the corner where it belongs.  It has some value in my life.  It has some life-giving aspects, but after stepping away, I realized that I had inflated the value.  Now it's back to a small corner of my life and I can spend more time on activities that fill me up rather than drain me.  I think I'll go read a book.