Social Media Anonymous: Meeting #1

“Hi everyone. My name is Dave, and I’m addicted to social media.”

I’m imagining all of you just replied in unison, “Hi Dave,” warmly welcoming me into the group and nudging me to continue. 

I will continue, but I’ll do so because I want to—not because I might say something that I think everyone wants to hear. This is the distinction, in my opinion, from scribbling on a blog and simply posting on social media. 

Of course, I recognize several similarities between a blog and social media: collecting views and followers, receiving comments from others, or the creation of a presence, however perceived, on the Internet. The differences between the two have me moving forward in my day-to-day routines with one and a whole lot less of the other.

I’m assuming—since you’re reading this at my blog’s site: davemmadden.com—you were able to deduce which of the two I decided upon.

Sadly—and one of the many reasons actively participating on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter isn’t for me anymore—if this were somehow a post on social media, I would have to clarify for someone, even still, as to whether I had selected a blog or social media. 

My personality is naturally hardwired to seek things I enjoy, and then consume them in unhealthy doses. Social media, I noticed, quickly snuggled up to the same endorphins that filled my veins with other highs, good or bad, such as: running, drugs, relationships, caffeine, sugar, food, collections or anything else. 

It’s strange how something like social media can trigger immense pleasure, yet transform you, or at least me, into such a hypersensitive contrarian—someone arguing for the sake of shoving a thorn in another’s side, which had never been a normal behavior of mine. I mean, I’ll argue—tooth and nail, in fact—but I don’t anchor my feet into a position, however mundane, and refuse to budge a single inch. 

I didn’t like who I was anymore.

As an introvert, I was more intrigued by the media aspect of social media. When I initially began entering the network, I never engaged with anything negative; moreover, if someone commented positively, the “conversation” never went any more than a few inches below the surface. Lately, on the other hand, I have been more than happy to share in some jabs with someone in the comments section—a place where most reasoning goes to die. Regardless of how high speed my Internet is, surfing social media’s landscape has felt like a labored plod through toxic sludge, halting my forward momentum in any direction.

Don’t get me wrong; I haven’t done a complete turnaround. For instance, I posted a couple memes during a recent UFC event, UFC San Antonio, but the volume has contrasted as starkly as night and day. Is this new pattern of behavior indefinite? Maybe. What I do know: the process of “interacting” online is mind-numbing, and what began to madden me—or, I guess, un-Madden me in this case—was an inability to pull myself out of the dark alleys in cyberspace I could go to get a fix.

This meeting—the first of, hopefully, many—is adjourned.

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