Oh Facebook, you are a strange, addicting creature.
It’s funny how such a medium can on one hand inspire a sense of closeness with your (real-life) friends, and then at the same time also make you feel a sort-of faux closeness with people you haven’t seen in years (or people you have yet to meet in real-life).
And then there’s the altogether different Facebook-effect of noticing old friendships vicariously through your current connections — and having that distinct feeling of recognizing “somebody that I used to know.”
More often than not I feel that last effect when my family members’ feeds pop up on my FB wall — I’ll recognize a name of a distant auntie or cousin, or someone who I went to school with, or more often than not, the familiar name of someone who I went to church with.
And when I see these familiar, long-ago-friends’ names pop up, it hits me how different my life is now that I’m in Canada, versus who I was when I was back in Savannah, years ago.
It’s been over 10 years since I’ve moved away from the south, and now when I think of the memories of that time and place, they are bathed in that fuzzy camera lens — they’re there, but they’re not in nearly as clear of a focus as my life in the here and now. Part of me wonders what it’s going to be like when I do visit my hometown again. Will it be a cathartic and liberating experience, or will it be more of a reminder of all the times when I felt so trapped and alone?
Anyway, it’s an odd feeling to mull over. I know that most of these old friends from my past life wouldn’t approve of or understand the life I am living now. In some ways the Becky they knew back then is gone, so maybe it’s a good thing we’re not FB ‘friends’. But it’s a shame they’ll never know who it is I’ve become — because on most days, I kinda rock.