Facebook-Suicide Link

Increased rates in mental illness and the rise of social networking sites appear to go hand in hand. First there was MySpace. Get a bunch of friends, one person says something that offends their 'friend'. Then the blogs, comments, and messages between these parties and their friends goes berserk. It's a virtual snipefest, just like the good old days when I was in school, and little cliques would form, so people could sneer and snarl at each other while attempting to spread rumors and make themselves look like they have the high moral ground with all their friends. But everything was face to face sooner or later. Not some anonymous postings on random internet forums.

Yes, Myspace is just like high school. Populated with 14 year old girls, or at least people with the same mentality as 14 year old girls. Full disclosure notice...I am not ashamed to admit I have a myspace site still. I am still a kid at heart and have no problem with meaningless conversations or blog reading over stuff that is even sillier than this crap I write.

But then came the college level of social networking. Facebook (motto: We have more people than the planet Earth) emerges. Some of us grew up, and can show an ounce of maturity when interacting online. Relationships are more easily tracked and people grow close. Then, some dumb rumor gets floating around, or some snide comment is made and people de-friend each other again. Only, instead of chalking it up to simple high school moronism, it is much harsher on the psyches of these social networking geniuses. They can hide behind their computer screen and pretend to be okay, but honestly, they are emotionally wounded. Just now, unlike back in the school days, you aren't forced to show your emotions. Why? Because you're sitting in your living room, or office or wherever behind a friggin computer screen. you can type anything you want, shielded from the atrocities that your words can cause. But the person on the other end knows the hurt all too well.

Being an ego-controlled heartless bastard, I am immune to these things. I couldn't care less what the people at some other IP address think about what I have to say. Not to say that I don't appreciate the kind comments and intriguing positions of commenters here on this blog, or anywhere else for that matter. But if someone truly has a problem with what I have said, well, that's their problem. They can either deal with, get thicker skin and deal with it that way, or they can just go away and leave me to my own little world over here. Either way, I don't care.

But not everyone is like me. You see, I have this coworker. We'll call him Irish, to protect his real identity which is Trevor McCarthy. Oops, blew that one. Anyways, he gets bored at work and likes to call me to have random discussions about whatever comes up that evening. But last week he had to train a guy for 2 days and then took two days off. He didn't get to talk to me much more than say 5 or 10 minutes. Then, after he finished his days off, it was my turn to take a couple days off. Which meant more time for him to not be able to talk to me. I can see how this would take a toll on his mentality and emotions. For he is a strange individual, and yet extremely in touch with his feminine side, in that he needs to talk on the phone all the time. Anyone who knows me, knows I hate the phone. However, my ego, having sympathy for those who can't help their pathetically inferior lifeforms, entertains his whims so I talk with him. As long as it doesn't interfere with my work, so be it.

Trevor had acquired himself a Facebook profile and had 'friended' me. Everyday a new comment from him would show up. Then a friend of his enjoyed the commentary and decided I was fun and cool or something ridiculous like that. I am not fun, nor cool. I'm merely so mysteriously fascinating, that they couldn't help but be drawn to me and figure out just how such a brilliant mind like mine works. (Hey, it isn't bragging if it's the truth!) So Irish's friend decides to be my Facebook friend as well. Then, less than 48 hours later, I noticed signs that pointed to a life changing emergency.

My email inbox notified me of a comment from Irish. I deleted the notification and would read it when I logged into the Facebook. So I get to Facebook, and look for the comment, but it is nowhere to be found. In fact, Irish is no longer on the Facebook at all. Gone from my friends list, my friends' friend lists, and after doing a search, he was completely erased from the world of Facebook. So I wondered to myself..okay I was talking to myself, all 23 of me...what had happened. Had my brilliance just been so intimidating that he had decided he had to limit his exposure to me merely to our late night phone conversations? Maybe, maybe not. But then I noticed, that my new friend....his friend that thought I was fun...was also no longer on my friend list. Well, this boggles my mind.

I call Irish's phone, to see what had gone wrong. It immediately went to voicemail. I leave a message to call me. He had worked the night before, so maybe he was sleeping. But then later that night when he should've been going to work, I still had not received a call back. Something was clearly wrong. You just do NOT ignore the Mook. The Mook can ignore you, but it doesn't work the other way.

Anyways, I checked published works on social media as found in the James Institute of Medicine's Journal of Faux Medical Conditions, and found a Facebook-Suicide link. You can read more about it right here. It seems, that people with Facebook profiles who become suicidal do things in steps. It starts with erasing their facebook profile. After all, if one does not feel worthy of existing in this world, why would they allow themselves to continue an existence in the virtual world and close knit community of Facebook. The next step, for cellphone users is to shut off their phone. For they have no reason to await any messages from anyone. That, and in their sadistic minds, it gives detectives something else to investigate. All good detectives have to check the phone records in case one of the callers is somehow connected to the suicide...or the murder made to look like a suicide. And also, it may help to determine the timeline of when the person left their mortal world.

So, not having a Facebook page at all, my ego naturally jumped to the conclusion that Irish must've killed himself. As for the other friend, in a petty way of dealing with Irish's sudden death, decided that if she couldn't be his friend, than she couldn't be my friend either. That's just the way things work. Now I know what you're thinking. This guy is off his rocker. That's just not anywhere in the neighborhood of rational thinking. And to that I say, "I never said my ego was rational, it's just all powerful. Just because you don't understand it and find it odd, doesn't mean that my mind isn't functioning properly. I just see the pre-formed conclusions and work my logic back later to make it fit.

Turns out that Irish had not committed suicide. Someone somehow hacked his account, and there was a big mess, and he terminated it, and got himself a new page. Now you're thinking, "But Mook, if your thought process and ego is all powerful, how could it be as wrong as it was?"

Well, it wasn't wrong. You're lucky it doesn't smite you for questioning its grand authority. Clearly Irish did commit suicide of a virtual nature when he killed his Facebook page. He shut off his cellphone. The next step was obvious, but my ego in its infinite wisdom intervened, and made him go take a nap instead of killing himself. It works in mysterious ways, and I can't fully explain it to you. As for the other friend, no longer being my friend, she had assumed the worst between Irish and I and de-friended me as a sign of solidarity with him. Pure defense mechanism stuff, which is all easily explainable in the worlds of psychology and sociology. But he is back and she is back, and my Facebook friends list has been re-populated to its old numbers. Which is a good thing. Had I been a normal person like you, it might have caused me to go get depressed, delete my Facebook page, go shut someone else's cellphone off (I don't own one), and then gone and killed myself....of course, only if my ego didn't interfere and spare my life. I couldn't afford to test the theory out twice in 2 days.

What Makes Me The Way I Am?

This question popped into my mind late last night, after speaking with my wife on the phone. And, as with most serious questions, my all to often used answer is 'I don't have a friggin clue.' And sadly, it isn't a cop out answer, I really and truly have no idea.

A little over 9 years ago, the pastor who was to marry us, asked us in a pre-marital counseling session "Why do we want to get married?"

Well, being young, immature, and parents for only about a year at this point, the words didn't come too freely. About all I could seem to articulate was the idea that I loved my and wanted to be with her as we raise our child in a (non-broken) home together. Apparently the pastor wasn't overly impressed with my boundless wisdom and the ability to express it.

My wife asked me last night what I expect out of our lives as a couple. Well, apparently the last time I gave such a question a single thought was when the pastor asked us that question 9 years ago, and have expertly brushed the thought off ever since.

My wife and I can basically complete each other. Her strengths and abilities are usually found where I would classify my weaknesses, and vice versa. There is little to no overlap. And when she posed this question to me, I struggled to answer and deflected the question back to her. She gave a very insightful and well thought out idea of what she expected out of our companionship. And of course, being the social genius that I am commented (with strong expertise, I might add) that she is definitely a woman, because I've never EVER heard a man say things like that. Only a woman could ever spew out all that stuff.

As I was growing up, I found myself in an odd social position. I had a few close friends, and then there was everyone else. I liked people, but then again I didn't like people all that much. I was a self-professed loner. I like a crowd, for the surrounding atmosphere that simultaneously provides me with a sense of anonymity. I think I re-invented myself about once a year or more in an attempt to 'fit in', unsuccessfully, and it pissed me off, and yet I alternated between almost hatred and apathy toward the people I sought so hard to impress. I was always best on my own. Whether I was just out wandering in the woods, sitting in my room listening to music, or working out in an empty gym, I felt best. Noone to bother me in any way shape or form. My wife can be apart from me or the kids for a short period of time and start to miss us. Whereas I can go out into the middle of nowhere and be gone for extended periods of time and not really be the type to miss people, even my family. Maybe there is something wrong with that?

I concentrated mostly on activities I could physically control. I got lost in my own thoughts of the world. When pushed into activities with others, I just melted into the background as much as possible, or in the event of me being the expert I pretty much tried to run the show according to own expectations. I only assumed leadership when I had to, and was sure of what I was doing. If I was in an unfamiliar realm, like acts or thoughts of emotions being put on display, I was more likely to withdraw to my own world, and let others figure it out, while I just go along with whatever.

I like to think I know where I stand in the world, and yet I am a conundrum unto myself. I am the walking contradiction, at least in my own estimations. I have really complex thoughts inside my head, but when I try to express them, the words get jumbled up, come out way different once they are verbalized. I've never been very confident in speaking out. Writing is my preferred method of communication, and even then my thoughts (just like this writing is turning into an unorganized and directionless rambling) still come out in type different than in my head.

I want to say that what I expect out of marriage would come out all eloquent, and yet I know it will come out not so much that way. I want to be able to spend time with my wife, have conversations at length with her that don't center on our jobs or what needs to be done concerning housework and bills. More often than not, she does the talking, and I hang out with my great barely monosyllabic retorts from time to time. Something I learned as a teenager and in my early 20s was the more that I spoke, the balance of credibility and baloney tipped more towards the latter. I felt it easier to save my credibility by just shutting up. Better to be silent and assumed stupid, than to open one's mouth and confirm it! That and I sometiems feel I have nothing new to say, and since I hate repeats, I project that onto others, especially my wife.

I've noticed also that when we get onto topical conversation about whatever, I hate it when we disagree. Not that we disagree in itself, but that I marry myself to my idea and end up making some counterproductive statements that may support my side the argument that go so far as to crush her spirit of wanting to even talk to me. And that does bother me. I hate conflict, despite the fact that I'm highly competitive, and always have been. I love winning, and hate losing--at anything. I've been working on avoiding going for crushing defeats in arguments. Not that my arguments were ever truly sound, I just used the bully-pulpit and a loud voice to ensure my opponent's forfeiture, and then bask in a glory that soon felt rather empty. Of course, if my wife and I are talking aout something and she agrees with me, it for some reason ticks me off, especially if she spouts out something that makes my point, only in a much more eloquent or decisive way.

In my mind last night I thought about this some and compared it to the Cold War. During the Cold War, there was the sphere of influence from the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Those were the clearly defined sides. Then Reagan goes and spends the Soviets into collapse, essentially. I remember loving that idea, that WE (the U.S.) won. Like I said, I love winning. And then as I was thinking through this, I had the oddest thought. Did Reagan just commit the ultimate act of dividing the population? Sure we always had partisan politics, but ultimately we were unified against this "Evil Empire." Sure, it's an oversimplification, but it was 'us and them'. Once we beat them, things changed and became more openly complex in the public arena. Maybe those Presidents before him who engaged the Soviets as a matter of the opponent to be tolerated had a higher wisdom, and Reagan ultimately committed a true evil by shifting the balance of power. Yeah, I know, odd thing to pop into my mind when the thought started out as a question posed by my wife, but it relates to my thinking a bit...

It has always been my wife and me. It just "was/is". And now she's (in a loving way) trying to make me think more complexly, and drive me out of the shell of my comfort zone. I work, I blog, I clean sometimes, I play basketball sometimes, and I think. She, on the other hand, FEELS. And she wants me to consider my feelings as well, so that we might be more compatible with each other, and expand our ability to communicate with each other.

As I'm sure I have mentioned before, I easily can emote anger or excitement at things like sports, board games, or certain "mike-type" activities. But when it comes to FEELINGS and EMOTION on the other more humane side of the scale, I have always turned them off. I view crying as a weakness. If I cried for someone else, like a friend or family member, that would be different. but the few times I have allowed myself to cry in my life, it was always for me and my own pity party, which only made me hate it even more, because that's just stupid, in my mind. I hate the fact that I'm ticklish, because its a weakness. And expressing myself in a more beautiful way makes me feel like I'm speaking 'sissy.' And that bothers the living crap out of me. I know, intellectually, that such thinking is farcical, and that a true man is capable of a balance between being the stoic rock to be leaned on, and the caring loving and communicative man. And yet, depsite the truth in that statement, putting it into action is so foreign to me, after all these years of trying to eliminate what I perceived to be weaknesses.

I begin to wonder if I missed something important, some type of life lesson, during all those years of trying to re-invent myself to make my life more exciting than it really was, instead of just being the me I was and accepting it and growing from there.

I mean my wife and I can talk about dreams and hopes and goals. I can dream with the best of them. I usually get to the end product, but the stuff in between to get there...not so much. And of course this frustrates my wife. She wants a partner to share the experiences of the journey and a clear cut plan put into action. I've always been an idea guy, and get myself lost from there. Rather than expose myself to my weaknesses and charge forward to overcome them, I slip back into my comfort zone and continue to churn ideas tha may or may not ever leave the confines of my head.

I guess that's why I like politics so much...it's easy to pick a side on an issue and go with it. There's always a way to objectify anything and keep it as simple, even if that's not the reality of the situation. I can attack it with the exuberance of a 5 year old on a jar of cookies,a nd I don't necessarily have to move past it. And sometimes I wonder, despite my thoughts on what is mature, immature, stupid, or smart....maybe I never matured past the adolescent stage in life. And maybe I need to get past that.