A previous week started with a frantic text from an old friend. A mutual acquaintance went on a racist and anti-Democrat rant on Facebook. While their families had been friends for decades, the original author saw no issue in repeating these hateful memes even when she called out his hypocrisy. This actually came as no surprise – I’d blocked this guy before - but the fact that he was so cruel to my friend and her family was shocking and disappointing.
I saw comments
from others I
recognized
in support
of this
ugliness,
and that,
too, was
unsettling.
Then
Trump refused
to disavow
white supremacy
in his surly and
churlish exchange
with Joe Biden in their
late September ‘debate.’
People I know and respect posted their disgust, especially in light of the President’s dog whistles to the far right, and many supporters came out of the woodwork to justify the Republican's record, which, they said, explained the tactics. The frustrating spiral of boorish rhetoric sucked me down, and the debate itself literally gave me nightmares of dysfunctional relationships past. I found myself unable to focus, almost unable to function.
After another nearly-sleepless night, I’d had enough. The weeds of hate choked out the light. It was time to get digging.
I got online and blocked, unfriended, unfollowed, unsubscribed. I took breaks from those I found
emotionally
exhausting
without
guilt. I
donated
what I could
to a select few
charities working
to win the country
back from this plague
of darkness and weak
moral character.
Finally, almost anti-climactically, I removed Facebook from my phone. Even though I know it’s for the best, this was a hard move. I had once enjoyed seeing friends and family and humor and news, but there was little joy to
be found as of late.