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Hard, actually…

But let’s start from the beginning. Each of us started to be part of the facebook world at our own pace. Some of us soon had hundreds of friends, some not so much.

What we decide to post also varies a lot; you can talk openly about a family member being sick, a difficult period you’re going through, or mainly share articles of interest, music that you really like.

It keeps you connected somehow. A connection to a broad imaginary audience (well, you’re just never really sure of how many of your friends actually look at what you post), that reacts with extremely expressive little yellow faces, with likes and dislikes, and with words. A lot of people have a cheer-leading way of reacting on facebook: you can do it, wonderful, you look soooo beautiful! And everyday, several times a day, we browse, we peek, we read, we like, get surprised, smile at the site of cats surprisingly fitting into small boxes (how could we not?).

It becomes a habit. It can become addictive. Well, maybe for most people it actually is. Because it never stops, it’s always there, with new things, pictures, events, notifications, oh somebody’s thinking of you, they liked what you did, shared, commented. It constantly requires your attention and calls you. But it also gives you an opportunity to explore certain characteristics of yours, sides of you, while leaving unwanted things out of focus.

Simultaneously, a lot of people are not that happy with facebook (interestingly enough, there were more articles on this in 2012 or 2013; what might have changed we can wonder). They don’t like the company’s policies, namely concerning privacy, they don’t see easy ways to solve their problems (technical support can be terrible, specially for deleting the account, for example), and a lot has been written about its’ CEO that can make you wonder about his philanthropy…

The most important question is, though, what is it doing to the way we interact with each other, with the people we know well and not so well. Fast comments and easy judgements, what can we make of that?

And what about the constant spotlight on you, what you think, what you stand by, and how you look? What does that say about ourselves? Does it make things better for us, or not really, and it ends up feeding a narcissistic and voyeuristic need in us all, so we’re just there feeding a system that feeds on us?

Well, then might come the hard part if we decide we don’t want to be part of it any longer: deleting it. You see all those pictures, all those moments, all that interaction, everyone right there just a click away. They all stay, but you go. And facebook keeps asking, are you really sure, you can come back you know, just deactivate, don’t leave.

Yes, it can be quite challenging to delete a facebook account.

And quite liberating.


What tells me I'm making the right choices, how do I know if I'm balanced?

It could almost be a question coming from an existentialist teenager, when actually we can revise these questions all throughout our lives.

It seems we always should have answers, and that the explanations must be global and simultaneously apply to each one of us. But then, fortunately, with the amount of things going into the internet world, and that have always been part of the literature world, and the music world, and dance and visual arts and any other form or art world, we do realize that definitions are what we want them to be, what makes sense for us, whether you're part of the majority or a very small minority of people.

So what makes sense to you is what defines you. And, hence, what defines what is best for you (i.e. makes you healthier) can only be an individual outlook on things. Yours, if all goes well.

General rules apply. Sure, there should be a basic common ground where we settle the pebbles to make our decisions. For instance: if you lack energy constantly, have difficulty with sleep, isolate yourself and tend to self-blame a lot, then common sense tells us you need help; or if you sweat like crazy, always second guess your own thoughts, regularly hesitate to talk to others, and try to plan ahead every little thing in your life, you know you could use some help; on the other hand, if you tend to explain negative experiences in your life by externalizing them (you usually feel you have bad luck, things just seem to go wrong for you, you are always misunderstood, other people usually don't respect you and are hostile, and you can't trust most people) then, this is going to be hard for you, but you really need help.

Sometimes we can't clearly see how we could be healthier. We can see we're not well, or that we can vaguely remember a time where we felt better, more alive, laughed more, things were lighter, and now things are just different and we might have rational explanations for that, which actually keep us stuck. So if deep down inside we know we're not well, we can look for help. X or Y.

We give names to things in order to communicate, and in an attempt to understand the myriad of things that surround us and are part of us, so we have to see names and definitions and the general theories for what they are: a tool for thought and communication, and not, definitely not, something we have to be or do.Every day you can find articles that state the top 5 things you have to do to be happier, or recent research that guarantees new ways to deal with shyness, nice images with texts that sound poetic, but are trying to make us all into one thing we're actually not, but believe we should be, but in reality never translates into our real actions. To hell with all of that, really!

Each one of us needs, wants, feels, craves, values completely different things, so we make our own rules, our own health, our own images with nice text on it. It's inspiring to read others', and to share and talk about all of this, but, by the end of the day, only you know what makes you happy and what hurts. People often say they're crying over something ridiculous. How can that be? If it hurts, it hurts, there's no rule for it. You might not want it to hurt, but you can't deny the reality that it does. Accept it so it goes away. Deny it and it stays there as a rock and will hurt the same every time. And by the way, if a close friend of yours is crying you would never say to him/her 'stop it, it's ridiculous!' Here's my rule: don't say it to yourself. Accept it, find what it is about, make it better for yourself. And others.

This was the title to a recent article on Psychology Today and might be the question a lot of people encounter throughout their lives, either when they're single, or (maybe even more often) when they are in a relationship and it comes up as a doubt: ‘did I make the right decision?’

The article seems to point to a prototype of a partner, a generalized image of a person having traits that suit us all. Those traits would be positive ones: not being arrogant and manipulative, being 'sincere, humble, fair-minded'.

And that would be our (the readers') only option if we want a partner for marrying and live a long happy life together.

Together with the description of the ‘right partner’ with these positive personality traits there was an additional thought - the article seems to point to the idea that if we stop chasing arrogant people we realize that other people (who are maybe not so attractive) are sexy as well.

Well, that's interesting, because slightly arrogant people might be sexy to some of us; a lot of readers might really enjoy the type of people who are in control of their own behaviour, environment, mind and body. And might not give a serious second look to someone who is humble and fair-minded. Or might want them for friends but no for partners. Those are things to consider.

In the same way that some of us might find extremely sexy a person who is a kind listener, or a loud talker, or just really quiet, or impulsive, or …But most importantly, could somebody who shows arrogant traits be, at the same time, a loving person? Could an ill-tempered person be simultaneously the best friend you’ve ever had? Are we all just good or bad?

This other article on The Philosopher's Mail gives it a slightly different taste by focusing on ‘me’, meaning figuring ourselves out before we try to judge others, put them in boxes, or try to change them. If there’s something we can know is that the only person we can change and work on for improvement it’s ourselves, and then we can make better decisions.

So what do we want? What's the best choice? How do we know it?

Can all of these questions be answered by an article? Or several articles? Doesn't it make sense that I will only want a fair-minded person if I enjoy fair-mindedness or I'm one myself?

Maybe what's right for me is not what's right for other people. Could it be that only really balanced people can make it in long-term relationships? Because what you need to make a relationship work is of Homeric strength. What you need to make your life function, in a harmonious manner, on a daily basis with somebody else, and still keep feelings of love, affection, attraction flowing together with a healthy management of sadness, anger and grief going, is truly arduous.

Surely it will be much easier if the person next to you is close to sweet perfection, all balanced out, never having a bad thought or intention, or egotistic behaviour. Oh that would be paradise! Or so we suppose... Because there are not a lot of them out there. Most people are more the type that has flaws. Who are difficult to handle when they're upset; who will treat you in a not so considerate way when they're really struggling. But they might love you and be there for you, every time they can.The struggle I found when faced with giving out rules for relationships and partner seeking, is that relationships are demanding and people are complex.


No point on being on a high horse with a checklist looking for the perfect person; and even if you would manage to find that, then you would really have to face how not-perfect you are. Only you can say what is important for you, what you absolutely value and what you can compromise and work on. And keep forever growing.

©2024 by Lisbon Psychology

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