Jean: The Facebook Stalker

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I never had in an inkling to join Facebook. I was on MySpace, I had a blog, and I figured it was yet another social networking thingy to which I didn’t have more time to devote. When Nathan said, “Even my stepmother is on Facebook,” well, I had to join; I felt I had been challenged in some way!

Of course, before I signed up, I asked Nathan, “You will be my friend, right?” He said he would. I didn’t realize then how special that was in that moment.

After I got my account, Nathan became my friend. I searched around for other people I knew from MySpace, work, high school, and college. I owe my Lovely once-a-month gatherings to Facebook; I probably never would have connected with them in such a big way if it hadn’t been for the grace of Unemployment and Social Networking.

I became friends with my neighbor’s two sons. When I told her they were my friends, she said, “Really?!” They won’t let me be their friends!” I had to laugh.

I read articles about parents and children co-existing on Facebook. It seemed like a “yes” or “no” situation. Parents were allowed to be friends or they weren’t!

I have to say that I didn't really look at Nathan’s page much; I felt I knew his thoughts and what was going on in his world. But, one night a week or so ago, he posted some sad song lyrics and then there were a few self-chastising statements sprinkled in between those lyrics. So, I called him, said I noticed he seemed down because of his posts on Facebook, and then I asked him if everything was okay.

By his reaction, you’d think that I had called him “Bear” (childhood nickname) in front of his soccer buddies! “Mom, everything is fine. Why are you asking me that?!” I told him I saw a few of his posts, and I just wanted to make sure he was okay.

He reassured me that everything was just fine. He also said that the lyrics to “Everybody Hurts” were nothing to be concerned about. I said, “Okay. I just wanted to check,” and then felt like I had committed some major parental sin by checking on his mental well-being.

Minutes later, I received an email that stated “Nathan posted a comment on your wall.” Oh, jeez, I thought; now I’ve done it. Nathan said, “Please stop facebook stalking me. I'll be fine. Love your son.”

I guess he had told me. Of course, when I thought about it again, I remembered my own teen angst. It seemed like the number in “seventeen” could have been easily replaced during years thirteen through seventeen with “self-doubt-teen,” “I-don’t-fit-in-teen,” “I’m-not-good-enough-teen,” “I-hate-my-zits-teen,” and so on.

Somehow I still felt guilty for being concerned, so I texted Nathan.

"This sounds corny, but if anything ever happened to you or Iz, I would probably curl up in a ball and die. I’m your Mom; it’s my job to be concerned. Someday, you will understand that. You are not a pain in my ass. You ARE my life, Nathan.”

Within 5 minutes, my cell phone rang; it was Nathan. Before he could say anything, I somewhat apologized for being overly concerned about his posts. But, then I had to tell him why I might have been more sensitive about his thoughts; he was old enough to try to understand me as I tried to understand him.

The day before Quinn, Nathan’s Dad, and I got married, a Friday, we found out that Quinn's brother had committed suicide on Wednesday of the same week. He was only 23, engaged to a lovely woman, and was teaching shop at the high school level. I had developed a very close relationship with him, and we shared a love of “Wiseguy.”

Quinn and I got married as planned; and the next week, we were attending his brother's memorial service. After Quinn's brother died, I didn’t get on my bike for an entire year. When I look back now, I think it was the way I grieved; considering I was biking 20 miles a day then and racing, it was a huge loss to my life that reflected the huge loss that occurred in my life.

Anyway, when I had Nathan on the phone I said, “I know it might be hard for you to understand this now, but when your Uncle died, it was devastating for your Dad, me, and your grandparents. I loved your Uncle so much. This makes me very sensitive to depression now, and I guess, even if you’re not depressed, you need to understand where I’m coming from. I’d never ever want to have anything happen to you, especially if you needed help but were afraid to reach out to your Dad or to me. This is why I asked.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Nathan said, “I understand, Mom.” I said, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, think you aren’t a great kid, or think you are “Mostly Likely to Commit a Felony Before The Junior Prom,” it’s because I care about you." The conversation ended with a "Good night," and an "I love you."

Once again, we both understood each other yet on a different level. I was still parent, and he was still child. But, this time, I was reminded of my own teen angst, and Nathan was reminded that his Mom, despite being his Mom, had her own angst, too.

On Mother’s Day, I got an email. “Nathan posted a comment on your wall.” It said, “Happy Mother's day. I love you even though you think I’m depressed and occasionally FB stalk me. ♥ ♥ ♥"

Today, I don't think I would have done anything differently with Nathan. Even if Nathan threatens to delete me one of these days, which he hasn’t yet, I would still make the call asking, "Are you all right?" In my Facebook, it’s better to be safe and stalk than to be sorry for a lifetime. ♥