Facebook Rehab

I recently decided to "take a break" from Facebook, and deactivate my account. Deactivating one's account is perfect for commitment-phobes like myself since it retains information so when I decide to return (and I'm fairly certain I will) I will still have photos, friends, etc.

So yet again, I have begun the Facebook detox cycle. First, I became frustrated/disillusioned/bored/accomplished the highest level of my game-of-the-week and felt it would be a good time to detach myself from Facebook and spend my time more...intelligently.

Step 1: I deactivated my account on Sunday evening. I know myself well enough to realize this is likely a phase, so deleting my account would be obnoxious. Simply deactivating the account made more sense. I chose not to post a "warning" to friends since that seems melodramatic and narcissistic.

Step 2: Life without Facebook requires some adjustment.

1 hour Facebook-free: I just opened up my web browser and had to stop myself from automatically going to Facebook.

3 hours FF: I am ready for bed, and only feel slightly tempted to check the site.

12 hours FF: To make it easier to *not* log back in and reactivate my computer, I don't start my computer until later in the morning - and then I am making a conscious effort to focus solely on my email.

Throughout the day, I find myself thinking in "status update" mode...basically, what I would post to Twitter if I had access.

24 hours FF: My mother relays a message that someone thinks I have unfriended her. That was how my mother found out I was "off Facebook."

26 hours FF: Apparently feeling some sort of need to communicate with the outside world, I take to Twitter and tweet three times in an hour. It is the first time I have been on that site in about a month.

38 hours FF: I find myself wondering about the "need" to be on Facebook: like the page I was co-admin for, getting addresses, communicating to family about an upcoming gathering. Yet, I still feel I need to stay off the network.

43 hours FF: My mother asks, "Are you back on yet?!" She posts updates daily...and usually more than one.

47 hours FF: I have weeded through and "read" all of my email in my Gmail inbox. I still need to go through the "Promotions" box, and could clean up the "Social" section, but I've spent a big chunk of time on that today.

48 hours FF: Blogging for the first time in five months!

I'm curious to see how long I can go without logging on to Facebook, and if I do log on, can I limit the frequency and usage of it? We'll see what the next few days have in store.

A "Dear John" letter to my dear gut

For anyone who has fought or is fighting in the Battle of the Bulging Belly, you have probably read or heard a variety of techniques to motivate you to exercise, stick with a diet, etc. One method that I came across several years ago spoke to the writer in me. The person wrote a break-up letter to her stomach.  I thought it was an interesting concept, so I gave it a shot. This version is edited slightly; I can be a bit vulgar sometimes but on this platform, I try to keep it clean. I chose to name my gut (which is the excessive part of my abdominal area - not the essential organs and such) "Fredo" after the character from The Godfather.

Dear Fredo, 
I know we've been through a lot.  You came into my life in full force when I was 10 so Mom started taking me to WeightWatchers with her. That was just the beginning of our relationship. In fact, I haven't been able to shake you since then.

 I thought I would move on without you after my freshmen year of high school when I flirted with Field Hockey that fall so you weren't around as much. But  then I spent less time with Field Hockey and more time with you and that other couple we've spent so much time with, Food and Television. I'll give you credit for sticking with me during the turbulent teenage years of high school, and then the stress fest that was college. We didn't do the Freshman Fifteen - we went all out for the Freshman Forty! 

I got serious about ending things during my junior year when I went to Weight Watchers at Work.  The leader was great, I enjoyed my fellow attendees, and faithfully attended meetings - until the summer was over. I still don't know how you convinced me to just go for weigh-ins...that I didn't need to stay for the actual meeting. After college, we partied like rock stars when I moved home with the parents, and then to Vermont for work. Despite everything I said about getting in shape those next few years, I never followed through.

Then there was that "intervention" with the girls in the fall of 2009. We agreed to train for a 5K together - and I really, really thought you were moving out for good. Even after the lay-off and a seizure resulted in me being in Maine without driving privileges, I kept exercising and you were disappearing. When I thought I was well on my way to being on my own, there they were: cupcakes! I just know you had something to do with that. You know how I feel about frosting.

Finally, the third Weight Watchers attempt over a year ago didn't take after the parents' divorce and the holidays from hell. And now? Well, now I am tired of the excuses I make to myself for not kicking you out permanently. You're bad news for my bad back and bad knees. You do NOTHING for me. You are sucking the life out of me - emotionally and physically. We're done. Pack your bags of lard and get out!!

Not-so-fondly,
Stroutacus

A change will do you good

I recently made a decision that had two possible results: "fly high" or "fall flat." Well, I feel like a crepe. Okay, maybe more like a ploye, but either way, I did not get the results I desired. But these decisions and their consequences are all part of life, or at least they've been part of mine. Each decision I've made has taught me more than the last. This time around I realized that I was truly more afraid of changing from my "hold steady" position than I was to "fall flat." In fact, I was not nearly as upset as I thought I'd be. Sure, I'm going through an adjustment period right now, but I don't think it has sunk in that I am more free now than I was two weeks ago. And if I hadn't moved forward, I might never be able to fly high. I guess I just don't have my wings yet, so in the meantime, I am impatiently waiting for the next choice to come.