Response to "Mourning on Facebook," part I

Last Monday's question about mourning on Facebook --specifically, if it is acceptable to post about one's own minor joys when an FB friend is going through a death in the family--went in some interesting directions, and wound up in a fierce debate. Good stuff!

As RH points out, the overall question transcends the technology:

This question has been presenting itself to us for a long time without the added confusion of social media. For instance, although I am only 32, I have many friends who have already lost not one, but both parents to tragic illnesses since we were all in our late twenties. Is it always insensitive to discuss my own living parents, who are both very involved in my life, with these friends? Do I always need to watch my tongue? It is something I have been wrestling with for several years.

My house is for sale and has been on the market for more than seven months. Yet I have several friends who listed their homes for sale after I did and they have already sold, closed, and moved into their new places. Are they not allowed to shout their joy from the rooftops because it might make me feel bad? Conversely, I have several contacts on Facebook who are currently out of work and facing grim prospects for their families. Is it insensitive for my husband or I to moan and groan about heading back to work on a Monday morning when we have friends who would literally kill to be in our shoes?

I have often dealt with versions of this question, frequently from women struggling with fertility while a friend is happily pregnant, or vice-versa. It's not an easy situation for either party. Of course, in one's personal life, the problem will only come up when the two women are actively socializing together. Since Facebook is, in essence, talking to all your friends at once, there is not escape from these situations. (Of course not every friend will see every update, but you had better assume, when writing, that yes, that person who gets on FB once a year will time their appearance to see exactly the one post this year that you don't want them to.)

This all-points-bulletin aspect is one of the trickiest challenges Facebook poses, socially. Generally we can tailor our conversation to our companion, using in-jokes and common reference points and avoiding topics, from politics to pregnancy, that might be sore spots. We can't do this on Facebook, and it is part of being a good FB friend to realize that not every status update may be to your interest or liking. (If that's the case more often than not, of course, then hide the person. It's easy and fun!)

Many of the commenters noted this--that other people's lives go on even as ours are spinning out by the side of the road--and said that in their own times of trouble, they used Facebook as an escape, as harry did:

Despite being a 50-something curmudegeonly semi-Luddite, I'm on Facebook. In particular, I love seeing updates from my girls - my daughter in law updates her status several times daily with a lot of cheerful notes. I think it's wonderful to have that view into their world and it makes me happy to take part vicariously. I have other "friends" whose random natterings appeal to me much less, so I don't accept their news feeds - problem solved.

However, I also have a parent with a mortal illness, whose life expectancy is sub optimal at this point - we're not working with hospice yet, but we are at the "palliative care" stage of an aggressive form of late-stage cancer. I do not expect nor want all my friends to go dark as a sign of respect when we lose my parent as we inevitably will; I have the feeling it will be comforting to be able to check in with life ongoing. If I am going to be hurt by the concept that other people still have lives, with or without parents, then I will stay off Facebook until I am ready to rejoin my larger social circle.

Bee Bee shared a similar story:

I just lost a loved one earlier this summer, and I'd planned to stay away from Facebook for that week or so, but I ended up on it a couple of times and I thought the well wishes from others stamped right on my page were beautiful. So, traditionally, I got cards in the mail, flowers, food delivered from others, and to add to that, wonderful wishes of condolances on Facebook. A few people avoided posting on my wall and instead sent me private emails through Facebook. And I even joked a bit with others on their pages about their lives, statuses and pages as normal, because I accepted that their lives were not revolving around my tragedy. And let me tell you, the distraction was golden in helping me drag through those difficult days.

I can see where Facebook might be golden indeed for someone in mourning or in the last stages of a death in the family. In addition to being a kind of microblogged window onto life's rich pageant, Facebook is a good way to keep in touch with people when you can't get your schedules synched up. People who are living on "biological time"--parents of new babies, caretakers of the sick--don't always know when they'll be needed and when they'll have an unexpected 10 minutes to themselves. Facebook is ideal for people in these situations.

So the general consensus, with which I agree, is 1) don't post anything for a couple of days, if the mourner is a close friend or relative, but then 2) accept that life goes on, and don't feel self-conscious about posting your good times or petty troubles. If a mourner, or anyone else, can't cope with other people's news at the moment, they can stay off Facebook.

I'm going to get to the Grand Battle in a subsequent post, but I wanted to end this one with something "sometimes" said:

But remember you don't HAVE to post something, either. It's just Facebook. If you don't document your weekend, it won't mean that it didn't happen.

So true! It's funny, the extent to which media create a sense of social obligation within us. As a friend of mine says, "A ringing telephone is not a whistling teakettle." And yet we feel compelled to respond to the phone, compelled to photograph and update. I have a terrible sense of obligation toward blogs; honestly, to delete a blog from my feed is like breaking up with someone!