I did something unheard of these days.
I deactivated my Facebook account.
Shocking, I know.
I just got fed up. With myself. It was making me feel things I don't like to admit I was feeling.
For one, I was ashamed at how much time I was wasting on there. It was so easy to tell myself I was just going to check my newfeed "real fast" and before I knew it, a half hour had passed.
If that wasn't bad enough, I was getting angry. And, bitter. Towards people that I either barely know, or that I see often.
It started slowly. First, somebody would post something that annoyed me, or offended me. Then, I would "hide"them so I was still friends with them but didn't see their stuff every day. One or two people here and there. But, eventually, I realized I was hiding more and more people. I quickly realized the problem wasn't them, it was me.
I was letting their "perfect" lives make me feel horrible about mine.
They post how their daughter made dinner for the entire family, again.
I'm over here yelling at my daughter to "PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO YOUR SCHOOL WORK THAT WAS DUE TWO DAYS AGO!!"
They post about their wonderful vacations.
I'm over here realizing we will probably do nothing this summer. Again.
They post about how much they love Jesus and thank Him for all He's done.
I'm over here quoting Bible verses and they honestly say "Oh, is that a real verse?"and haven't set foot in a church in 10 years.
They post about their new jobs or promotions.
I'm over here praying that my husband doesn't get fired today, like he wishes.
They post about how they hiked to the top of Mt. Pisgah.
I'm over here walking 8+ miles per shift at work, on a broken ankle, in such pain I want to just sob.
Actually, I want to just sob, period.
If I'm keeping it real, I'm struggling. Struggling in too many areas. With my kids--why are they so much work now? More so than when they were toddlers? With my spirit--I'm so very tired, I've stopped caring about too much. With my body--I'm frustrated with the amount of pain I'm in, With my ankle. With my weight. With my mind--it's not being my friend.
I've considered taking medication for it but, and this is hard to explain, it's not the answer, for me. I've spoken with my doctor, he thinks losing 18 pounds in a year, after constant counting and exercising, is perfect progress for "someone your age". He thinks I would benefit from a CPAP machine. And, maybe I would. But, I'm over here stuck with over $1000 in medical bills from my adventures falling off my own couch. Adding to that stack with more tests and machines is not the answer.
What is the answer? For now, it's avoiding comparing my life with the fake lives (because NOBODY'S lives are THAT perfect, all the time) of my "friends". It's doing the best I can, each day and forgiving myself when things aren't perfect.