For several months (and even a few years) I’ve played around with my social media accounts. I’ve deactivated them, taken them off of my phone, and tried to limit my time on them. I’m one of those highly intuitive people, and something in the back of my mind has always told me we’re going to regret it. Kinda like smoking in the 1950’s and 1960’s. One time I asked my dad if people back then knew smoking would kill them and didn’t care, or if they truly didn’t know. He said both.
With social media, I got to a place where it was too much. I didn’t feel like I needed to know every in and out and concern of every person I’ve known for the past 30 years. I didn’t need to be invited into their homes and vacations, marriages and children’s lives. Sometimes I felt burdened knowing too much. I worried about people. Sometimes anger from something that happened years ago simmered back up in my soul. Then, of course, there’s the common jealousy which leads to resentment, discontentment, and entitlement.
