When Facebook breaks your heart, make wine.

I LEARNED this weekend that Facebook can break your heart.

My aunt’s daughter (my first cousin) got married, and neither my sister nor I was invited to the wedding. Seeing the photos of my other family members at the wedding made me distraught.

My mother and her two sisters all died from breast cancer. My aunt, SJ, was a sweet person. I could write a long story about her, our adventures together, and her children.

I thought I had a relationship with her daughter. Facebook gave me the false sense that I was involved in her life. I was a part of her virtual life, not her real one.

When I saw the photos on Facebook of her wedding, all I could do was cry — for hours. The last time I cried like this, I was at a funeral. I wasn’t happy for her at all. I couldn’t sleep. You never know when something is going to happen in your life that changes you and how you feel about the way you interact with your family and other people. This was that moment.

I ALSO FELT guilty. My mother would not have allowed this to happen.

I didn’t know what to do. I considered closing my Facebook account because I didn’t ever want to feel this way again. Wasn’t ignorance so much better?

I didn’t close my account because I’m participating in  the 2015 New Quilt Bloggers Blog Hop, and we have a group on Facebook. Our hive queen, Terri Ann, explained to me that I could make my Facebook “private.” I didn’t know this. That’s what I did or at least it’s mostly private. Here’s a youtube video on how to do that.

I discovered Facebook and the overload of posts from acquiesces had weighed me down. I won’t be able to restore my relationship with my cousin, or the rest of my mother’s family, or at least I don’t think I will be able to at this point. Even though I’m an attorney, I wither when confronted by members of my family. It’s just better to hide, and Facebook allowed me to do that. And, I’m hiding again with my privacy changes. (I need therapy).

So I’m going to take my sour grapes and make wine — somehow. I just don’t know how. I’d love some wisdom from the crowd.

Heartbroken,

Wanda