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Persistence Alone

My grandfather grew up in a small apartment in Lawrence, Massachusetts with fourteen older brothers and sisters. His mother stayed at home to watch after the family, and his father worked in a dry goods store.

His parents came from Italy to Ellis Island with no money. He grew up poor.

When he was ten or so he began to work at the dry goods store as well. His job was mainly to run into the rat infested basement and get tins of spaghetti to bring upstairs. He was allowed to keep a portion of the money, but most of it went to his parents.

Part IV, Kick People Out of Your Life

On The Slowing

This is Part IV of IV in my Arbitrary Disciplines series.

That title is totally over the top, but I won't say its message is inaccurate. About two months ago - the same time when I started brainstorming to come up with coping mechanisms - I realized that every single time I got on Facebook my mood plummeted. So I deactivated it. (Honestly, I didn't realize you could delete it, but it really hasn't even been remotely a temptation.)

Here's why:

First, I began feeling acutely removed from everyone I loved several times a day. I would see pictures and exciting college updates and amazing, intellectual events - and I'd be reminded of what my life no longer is. I've spent the past four years living in New England. And now I'm back down south where I haven't spent any significant time in five years. That's a huge cultural transition. Not to mention the fact that I am finished with school and moving into one of the toughest times in one's life, i.e. early adulthood, where everything is unstable. I was (and am) ready to build a new life. Getting rid of Facebook was part of building the scaffolding for my new life. Pare down, build up.

Second, I hated seeing other people succeed. I would scan statuses and see "Yay! I got a job at Harvard/Google/Amazon/Some-Incredible-Overseas-Company! My life is so much better than yours!" Maybe it didn't say that last part, but that's what my brain decided every time I scrolled past another friend's "good" news. It was making me bitter and hardened. Sure, it still hurts sometimes when I hear about friends getting great opportunities because I have been trying so hard for so long to find a position. But I don't have to subject myself to angst fourteen times a day. Hearing it once a week or so is manageable. And I can be happy for them because I've been spending all that time I was on Facebook to craft my own life.

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