Chasing the Red Dot

I am a social media consultant. That means I am fully immersed, day and and day out, in the best (and worst) we all have to say to, about and in thinly veiled reference of each other. I’ve been a social media user for about ten years now, joining Facebook when it was still limited to .edu email addresses. I was a MySpace member before that. Twitter? Since almost its beginning. Pinterest? Joined when it was still in beta. While I’ve always been careful, it wasn’t until I became a mom that I really stopped to consider the effect social media has had on me.

I’m not talking stranger danger, though I do take steps to keep many personal details private. No, I mean the mental and emotional toll social media has on all of us, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.

Many people are surprised to learn that I deactivated or deleted some long-running personal accounts over a year ago. Shocked even. After all, if I love social media enough to make a career out of it–if I am so passionate about its power to connect us–why opt out?

The answer for me is quite simple. As a mom, there is too much noise. Social media compounds this, allowing connections to openly praise–or criticize–every moment we choose to share. For me, a chronic over-sharer with the desire to keep far-flung family and college friends up-to-date, it became evident that I was going to need to limit my exposure to keep myself sane even before delivering my son.

I want to be clear–I do love social media. But, like a piece of heavy machinery, it’s something best not operated under the cloud of new motherhood. For me at least.

My coworker and I call it “chasing the red dot.” That little high you get when someone likes something you have posted and you see that notification pop up. We’re all guilty. It’s human nature, stemming back to when we were kids and our parents praised us. It’s why we studied in college. It’s why we try to do well at work. There are so many red dots.

Too many, I argue. If, like me, you start to evaluate yourself based on how many people have liked or retweeted, commented or messaged–you might have a problem with social media. It’s different for companies or brands, of course. But as a mom, which comes with almost instant judgement from the world, how much does this feedback work in your favor? I would argue: Not as much as you think.

I am no different from anyone reading this. I know I’m weak. I like when someone thinks I am being a good mom by going to the park or when a relative comments on my son eating broccoli. I still share photos, though I’ve cut down a great deal. When I catch myself sharing a photo but fretting about  the stack of dirty dishes in the background or the fact that I am wearing sweatpants (again)–I have to ask my reason for posting. Recently, after coming home from vacation with no personal Facebook account to speak of, I had a moment. “What am I going to do with these photos?” What would I have done with them ten years ago? Probably printed them and put them in an album to enjoy.   

I’ve seen a woman chastised in a 30-comment string because her baby didn’t look warm enough to others in a cute photo she had shared. I’ve witnessed private photos shared of kids whose parents definitely didn’t want them to be public.  I’ve been asked incredibly personal pregnancy questions by random acquaintances as public comments. 

To be fair, I’ve also seen many amazing things on social media. Funds raised for medical bills. Relationships and marriages. Support for moms who had reached the end of their ropes and are feeling isolated from the world (I include myself here). It’s why I still have faith in and love the medium.

If you can roll with the social media punches and block out the noise, I applaud you. But if your heart jumps at a notification or you find yourself saying “I am so sick of seeing/hearing ________” you have options. Blocking. Lists. Unfriending. In the tangled mess of online communication, these can be tricky, even causing family fights or ending friendships. But there is another option. If, like me, you need some quiet while you’re raising your child–deactivate. Delete. Cut out the noise. Don’t share as often. Stop chasing that red dot. I am working on it, too.

Because we are so much more.