It would appear as though my blogging here on Wayfarer as of late has become a journal of my journey away from social networking. Facebook, in particular. You could call me a hypocrite because any internet use at all can link to networks of chatting, forums and blogs. But I’m okay with that. I’m not a purist about this. What I’m telling you is what I’m feeling now that I have little more to do on the web but look things up, read interesting articles, and write here.
So, the title of this post — physical withdrawals? Yes, it’s been six days now and as the days drift along I am beginning to feel physical withdrawals and ramifications because my life is not perpetually interconnected to Facebook. Perhaps this sounds preposterous — after all, how could a website cause physical changes in the human body? I am no doctor but I can explain this with plenty of clarity.
When I climb in bed at night to rest I find that something has changed. I’m one of those deep sleepers that usually can sleep through an air raid or anything short of a fire alarm close to my head. I sleep long and I sleep deep. My dreams are luminous, vivid and often lucid — I have a great time exploring the surreal landscapes of my resting consciousness. It’s a rare occasion that I wake up even once in the night. Since changing my habits, though, my sleep has changed dramatically, too.
I’ll fall asleep at a regular time for myself and within a few hours I’m wide awake again. Something bumps me out of my dreams. I’ll look at the clock and only a few hours will have gone by. No, not hunger or the need to use the bathroom will have woken me up. Instead I lay in the darkness waiting to drift off again but never seem to find it. My mind is racing. I am a person that, when necessary, can harness incredible focus. When I go to sleep I never have an issue. It takes only a few minutes and I’m gone for the night. Now I am stuck awake, craving sleep, wanting nothing more than to be immersed in dreams once again. But it’s not there. Songs that I have listened to during the day play along in my head. Lines and nuances from television shows distract me to near madness. I want to scream, thrash, and fade into suffocating exhaustion. None of this comes to me.
In an attempt to fight off my mounting craze, I pick up a book of poetry and delve into the deep recesses of its beauty. Sublimity is with me once more. I shiver as I scan and softly speak each delicate line, one after the other, twisting into an immaculate form that surrounds me. My eyes grow heavy, so I put down the book and open myself to the dreaming world again. It fails to come.
This went on for hours last night and for no logical reason. I had been exhausted the entire day. In fact, I’ve been a little bit more than exhausted lately, napping or nearly passing out at inopportune moments. Eventually, desperately, sleep will take me when I need it most.
My struggle to focus and gather myself is troubling. Ever since I sent my Facebook account into oblivion there is a growing stress on my body. I should be sitting in my chair or on my bed, laptop at the ready, browsing through profiles and chatting away. But none of it’s there. Now even more timeless distractions batter me, like the television and its endless drone. I laze around lost, unsure of what to do next. Yet fear not, with sword in hand I will cut through the madness and find wholesomeness in my calm center. I have all the more encouragement to do so, now aware that dropping off the social network can physically bother my body.
On the flip side, I’m plowing through a marvelous book of poetry by Bill Rasmovicz, published by a fine little poetry press I have the honor to be acquainted with. As soon as I’m finished I’ll be posting a review of his work and soon after posting a new piece of my own!