I deleted my Facebook account one week ago. Well, technically I deactivated it – I didn’t want to take the time to send an email asking them to permanently delete it. But, since temptation and force of habit is so strong (and all it takes to reactivate an account is to sign back in), I also switched the password to something impossible to remember. Now I can’t accidentally sign back in out of force of habit.
Anyways, as I was saying, I deleted my Facebook account one week ago. And guess what? I survived.
There have been a number of times over the past week where I wanted to sign in. And a number of times I mysteriously found myself with a tab open I hadn’t consciously planned on opening (turns out clicking on the Facebook link on my Google Homepage tab was such a habit that when I deleted it I continued to click the site that took it’s place). I am happy to say, however, that one week in the desire to go check out Facebook has decreased significantly.
Yes, there are still times when I want to sign in to check up on what’s happening. There are times I want to search out pictures of my friend’s babies. And I do miss hearing about some of the antics of those same friend’s older siblings. But overall, I’m content with my decision to remove myself from Facebook.
Now, Megra12, I can hear you saying, “You said that breaking up with Facebook would give you more time to write and do other things along those lines… but this is your first blog post in a week.” Too true, too true. I have not written any more over the past week than I have in the last month. That being said, however, I have noticed some freed up time. I’ve had time to work on research and background reading for the story I want to write. I’ve had time to pull out my guitar and start learning again. And yes, I’ve procrastinated writing and scrapbooking and organizing with other websites such as Pinterest. But I’m getting there.
After all, I’m writing this post today aren’t I?