I'm the Sally Field of Facebook

I'm still pondering social media. My friend Dawn's comment that she uses Facebook as a sort of life newspaper made great sense. I do that too. And yet, I think.... Strike that I know that I use it interactively.

I like feedback from others. I loved seeing those metal stars—the ones you lick on the back—placed on my papers at Dwight D. Eisenhower Elementary School. Getting report cards and reading what my teachers had to say about me was exciting. Although I cannot recall my very first emotional response to being on stage, I know that hearing an audience laugh at a well delivered line and then hearing applause at curtain hooked me into performing.

I haven't worked in an office setting for years. I enjoyed clutching a cup of coffee and chatting about last night's episode of ER or hearing someone tell me a story about a mischievous child. As the receptionist at an ad agency in Portland, I was happy when people would hover in my area and kibitz. I am amused easily and I get a kick out of hearing stories and sharing mine. 

Last week I experienced a first. I used the last bit of dental floss and threw away an empty container.

TWICE IN ONE DAY!!

(FYI. I keep dental floss in multiple places in my home and car. Dental work necessity.)

I've never asked a single person this question:

“How many empty containers of dental floss have you tossed out?”

But, deep in the profound recesses of my philosophical mind, I knew this was rare and worthy of some kind of reward. 

I couldn't tell my dentist because that's admitting that for 49 other years I wasn't flossing regularly. I wonder how many empty spools of floss a dentist throws away annually?

You feel a little silly calling someone to brag about hygiene. Only a rare friend really wants to listen to that. I would be that friend, though, just in case you reach a life milestone with a bizarre twist. Cuz really. There are 5000 miles of floss on one spool!

It was text worthy, for sure. Mary would instantly text something back far wittier than anything I could have thought of hours after the conversation. But, what do you do when your gut is pleading for more than one high five? 

POST ON FACEBOOK!

It’s the best licky star ever. Hearing that pleasant metallic gong when someone likes your comment. And again. Again. Driving to carpool line. Parking the car to see 10 notifications in your window. TEN FRIENDS are proud of me! FIFTEEN FRIENDS think I’m funny. FIVE FRIENDS like AND comment. We’re exchanging witty banter! I’m so popular! Everyone likes me.

We all extrapolate what we post. In response, we can also interpret a like or a comment in the way that works for us as well. That can be true in the positive or the negative. "Oh! He thinks I'm funny!" Or “Well, she has no sense of humor anyway.” She’s hidden. Or if she’s just not funny at all, ever, UNFRIENDED.

My point? Take the grain of salt approach. Is social media interaction fun? Yes. Is it validating? Yes. It can be. It can also be extraordinarily helpful too. When I was needing advice for my trial on my best option for bags under my eyes, I got a ton of great advice. I learned that Preparation H with biodyne, only sold in Canada or foreign markets is THE BEST KEPT SECRET IN THE UNIVERSE!! 

If, however, I attach my personal value to the comments or likes or thumbs up of others, then I’ve got some rocky living ahead. Social commentary is a precarious anchor for your self esteem.

Our world is jacked up. I find it astonishing that even with great education about bullying, more than ever adults bully each other on social media without reservation and with entitlement.

But let me be very clear. When I post that I get extra credit for reading Jonathon Franzen’s newest tome since it’s in .17 point type, please like and comment. Because his 600 pages are like 5 volumes of a Brittanica. With NO PICTURES.

Job Description Clarification

I felt enormous pressure as a child and teenager to be an example for others. It was a mandate at school: "Fifth graders! You have got to show the younger children what a responsible student acts like!" We even had responsible student badges, RS badges—an external symbol of model behavior. 

Sidebar: I planned and lead a protest against RS badges when the PE teacher unilaterally took every 5th graders' badge for the behavior of a few. Apparently justice has always been important to me.

Being president of the Student Council in 5th grade and 8th grade upped the ante for me.(I remained in elected leadership positions throughout high school.)

My commitment to being, dare I use the "P" word

-perfect- crossed another, even more critical status. I believed with every ounce of my tender heart that I needed to be so exemplary that it would lead people to life everlasting. 

Quite simply. If I didn't make Jesus look good, people would go to HELL.

To have such influence and power? I chuckle and cringe simultaneously. 

Now. Before hackles go up and teeth are bared....I am NOT saying these are inherently bad things and that my life is a wasteland as a result. Positive role models have always been and remain valuable in my life. My faith also has space for a place where accountability and actions do matter. Representing Christ well is important to me.

Full disclosure....I am and have always been extraordinarily sensitive to the emotional responses of people around me. Coupled with hyper-vigilant duty to be an example to well, EVERYONE in the entire world, I was a prime candidate for co-dependency.

Make the family look good. Make your teachers happy. Be smart. Be funny. Be skinny. Never cuss. Like everyone. Never brag. Be perfect. Be confident. Be humble. Never lie. Have nice manners. Never hurt people. Always forgive. Be stylish, never vain. Feel deeply, just never be angry. Make everyone like you. Be smart. Make all A's. Memorize the whole Bible. Never alienate anyone. Don't tell people your secrets. Smile.

If you can't be perfect, at least try.

No wonder I was exhausted and burned out by the time I hit my mid 20's! I had to find a better way to live. I sought the help of a therapist who with great wisdom, helped me see with new eyes and recognize patterns that were injuring both me and others.

Fast forward to now. I'm 50. I understand what hooks me into that push-pull of being needed and feeling compelled to save everyone from everything—especially themselves. But understanding and response are two different issues.

In the past weeks since I started writing this, there have been innumerable events I was not only tempted to revert to "saving" someone; but, several times I felt my feet dancing that familiar tango. It feels natural. I'm really good at it too. UNTIL I either dance too long and experience the negatives or simply remember that not only am I unable to do someone else's emotional work. I CANNOT do it. Ever.

This is not a random segway.

I started recognizing the voice of the Spirit in my life during my late 30's. It was there all along. My inner world was so muddled with constant chatter and anxiety that I couldn't discern what was what. That process of learning was a daily effort. Eventually I knew that when I had a thought that is sane and much wiser than my normal inner voice, it probably wasn't from me. I do not hear a thunderous male voice like James Earl Jones. No. It's my voice, just better. It's never shaming and is always loving. I began to acknowledge that as God's directive to me.

God knows I'm naturally rebellious. Most everything from the Spirit comes to me in the way of questions or considerations.

Here are some examples. "Lori. I want you to consider changing your eating habits." "Lori, you love yoga. Why haven't you gone lately?" "I wonder if I need to be a better friend to_____(fill in the blank)?" "Today would be a great day to call___"

The best thing that ever happened to my inner world was realizing that I am not the Holy Spirit. (That's really funny if you were raised in church, btw.)

Realizing that it was not my job, nor did God expect me to move the hearts of people helped me more than any Bible lesson I'd ever sat through. (I went to church on Wednesdays and TWICE on Sundays.)

Had I not learned that I have limited ability to control others before motherhood, I'd have quickly learned that from a colicky baby.

When I understood my job better, I experienced freedom. I am grateful for knowing that my job is simply to love. 

But...

finding that balance of how to love well is a lifetime commitment. Being empathetic is necessary to love well. We're all flawed which results in being hurt and sad when others fall short of their best. If I flatten my ability to feel hurt, I also flatten my ability to feel joy.

Maybe there are people that can do love without help. I'm not one of them.

Each day before my feet touch the carpet, I ask God to increase the capacity in my heart to love. I also ask for help to love well. Most days that involves a lot less talking. Biting my tongue a lot. More listening. And praying more than ever. 

And asking forgiveness more than I wish I had to. Anne Lamott said it better than I: 

Earth is Forgiveness School. You might as well start at the dinner table. That way, you can do this work in comfortable pants. When Blake said that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love, he knew that your family would be an intimate part of this, even as you want to run screaming for your cute little life. But that you are up to it. You can do it, Cinderellie. You will be amazed.