The suspicion that Facebook was satisfying a need I didn’t even know I had — training me for a certain behavior — made me wonder if I needed a support group. That my child had become online “content” was even creepier. I wasn’t always like this.
I first logged in merely to look at photos from my far-flung family. A few years back, my brother invited me to join. He posted for a while and then seemed to completely vanish from his page — no more updates, no more pictures. He had sent an ominous email, something to the tone of “Be careful. It’s addicting.” We never spoke of it again.