The gift of fearlessness

I committed Facebook suicide this week. Totally pulled the plug. It's likely why you're getting a blog post from me today!

I used to blog a lot more. When I signed up for Facebook more than four years ago, that all ended. The time I used to spend here, or in my journal, or just in my head--pondering--dissipated. Instead I was spending my time on Facebook.

I came to realize it was not just effecting (goddam it! affecting?) my creative life, but my social life too. Instead of calling a friend, I lurked on Facebook. It was too easy. Too addictive.

How many hours did I spend scrolling through status updates, instead of playing with my son?

So I ended it this week. I couldn't think too hard about the consequences. I just had to do it. Thinking about who I'd lose touch with, or what I'd miss out on just paralyzed me. I got up early one morning, and in that hazy mind-space time when you don't really think about anything, I logged on and deleted my account.

Yay!

So now I have some time to do what I've been meaning to do for awhile. Write here. Back in January, as my birthday was approaching, I was thinking about giving myself a gift. The gift of fearlessness. I thought about the power of just posting whatever was on my mind--which I often don't do because I wonder what you all will think of me. (Ha! All three of you reading this blog.) Maybe if I write about what I really think, and really feel, you'll think I'm terrible, unworthy of friendship, a totally negative bitch.

Well, maybe you will. But I'm going to risk it. Because the consequence of not writing what's on my mind is...nothing. Nothing happens.

There is a saying: "The universe asks you to go first."

Here I go.