So, for those of you who are walking in my shoes right now, one of the biggest battles you will be facing is “the announcements”. These take many forms, from text, face-to-face, telephone call, and the most common culprit of all – Facebook.
I am a self-confessed Facebook addict, and was one of the joiners of 2005/2006, when it was exclusively for university students (you were only allowed to sign up with an official uni email address). It’s therefore fair to say that it’s pretty ingrained into every day life, and has, over the years, replaced phone calls and texts as a way to stay in touch with people.
More recently, it has been to starting to grate me. It has become such a superficial, half-arsed way of communicating with people, and I was discovering that those I interacted with most, were people I probably wouldn’t say two words to on the street if I saw them. Yet, you’d get comments like, “Oh hun, sending hugs”, if you’d posted that you’d had a bad day – have I ever been on hugging terms with you? Or, “we totally have to catch up soon, it’s been tooooo long” – Really? Do we? Had we both really wanted to meet up, we’d have done so at some point in the past 7 years.
Funnily enough, those friends that really do matter, drop you a text, pick up the phone to you, call round your house, and hardly ever write on your Facebook wall.
I’ve reached that point in life now where the large majority of my friends are getting married, and having kids. It is inevitable that “the announcements” are going to happen. And yet, logic does nothing to soothe that heartbreak when you happen across one.
Don’t get me wrong – I bear nobody any ill-will, and I understand that you want to shout it from the rooftops, cos I would too. But your news can turn me from being as happy as Larry, to feeling like kicking a puppy (which I must add, that I would never do, because I love animals… but you get my drift).
My husband has rehearsed the act so many times over the past year – he deals with the sulking, wipes away the tears that follow, and then tries to reason with the *Chimp within. I like to think of it as an equivalent to Kubler-Ross’s, “Five Stages of Grief” model. And yes, I KNOW that other women are going to get pregnant, and I KNOW that they’re happy and want to share it, and I KNOW that they probably aren’t bearing the smallest thought for those of us who aren’t getting that bun to start cooking… but I DON’T CARE and I want to go and hide away for the next 9 months and then never see them with their babies until their babies grow up to be in their terrible twos and I can go on posh holidays, and spend my money on nice clothes and shoes and have something that THEY want…
Yes, logic really doesn’t feature, does it?
So, I made the brave step of leaving Facebook last month.
I’ve gone back to the old-fashioned “text and phone” method of keeping in touch with my nearest and dearest. And you know what? I’ve not got the shakes, or had a seizure, or been tossing and turning in my bed at night. It has been LIBERATING.
Not only do I have pregnancy and babies (a little) less in my face, but I’m now free from the knowledge of what the woman-from-my-workplace-8-years-ago has managed to buy from the Bargain Bucket in Primark, and that the-bloke-I-went-to-Primary-school-with might have seen one of those poisonous false widow spiders on the outside of his mum’s garage.
Here’s a track for you all, just to sum it all up…
*I will come back to the “Chimp” term at some point