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How Social Media Stole My Voice

With tears in my eyes, I just closed the browser I had open to Facebook after looking at a few pictures and memes and reading a debate about transgender bathrooms and the formerly shamed dancing man. It just seems to me that social media has turned into a giant playground in cyberspace populated by meanness.

I'm so tired about reading comments detailing how poor spelling and very common grammar mistakes completely negate an argument. I'm over the name calling and poor judgment and shaming that makes up the posts people share and laugh about. I'm just so disgusted with the people who think it's okay to make fun of others and the mean-spirited things people say and get offended by.

I read these comments and write a thousand responses in my head that never make it to the screen. I've tried my hand at it and been bashed and shamed in the process, even by people who were actually on the same side as me because I didn't use the "right" terminology. I decided right then and there that it wasn't worth the effort. It's not worth the energy to try to point out a flaw in the logic or encourage people that it's okay to live in a world where not everyone agrees on the finer points in life.

I have friends who have consciously decided to post only about rainbows and puppies. They share beautiful photos filled with laughter and a few witty comments. I enjoy seeing these, but I also know that these posts just highlight the mean-spiritedness bobbing just beneath the surface of the online world. They also exacerbate what I believe is a major problem in this world--the refusal to accept that life is messy.

My grandfather once told my mother that life is a series of ups and downs and that no one should expect to spend every moment at the top of a rollercoaster. She struggled with plenty of feelings of inadequacy and always had a sense that she never quite fit in with the rest of the world. I used to spend a lot of time telling her that we all feel that way from time to time, but that most people refuse to admit it, thus perpetuating an individual belief that everyone else has it figured out.

Sadly, I often don't feel like it's okay to share my moments of frailty or give others a glimpse into my not so perfect world. I've accepted these imperfectly beautiful corners of my mind and heart and kitchen counters. I don't need to--nor do I want to--live a life worthy of a magazine cover shoot. The mess means I'm spending time doing what I love or learning a new lesson or immersing myself in the dangerous emotions that come with real living.

I still have my opinions, but they stay locked away in my head or in the dog-eared pages of my journal. And here. While I appreciate the outlets, this censorship isolates me. It isolates you. As a result, we spend most of our time honoring dead celebrities who never really made up any substantial fabric of our existence. We communicate through likes. We're creating a culture of fear because we can't concentrate on living the moments in front of us and enjoying the people in our presence.

What's happened to us? I thought that the shrinking corners of the globe would actually bring us together, but I'm starting to think we're embracing a civil war of humanity. So, I'm going to step away right now and retreat back to my world of dogs and late spring breezes and the laundry I've been putting off all day.

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