Why My Daughter is More Mature Than I

I can't quit Facebook. Ever since I joined the site as a PhD student at the University of Central Florida in 2005, I have been addicted to following the pictures, musings, posts, and updates from friends and acquaintances across the globe. When I first signed on the Facebook, I had to verify that I did, indeed, have the required "edu" email address - and then was only able to view the pages of fellow students at my university. The entire concept of the newsfeed did not exist until 2007. Much of what was posted on Facebook in the beginning years consisted almost entirely of snarky college-student banter. The site in its infancy would barely be recognized compared to what it has grown to today.

My daughter is 14 years old. She does not have a Facebook account. She also does not have an Instagram account, or a Twitter account, or a Snapchat account, or really any social media account. The closest she comes to social media is a Recolor account, which is an art-sharing application where users can upload artwork. Similar to Instagram, fellow users can "follow" each other, give "likes" to fellow users' posts, and provide comments and feedback. My daughter seems to deeply enjoy being on Recolor. She loves viewing drawings on the site and uploading her own artwork, and she bubbles over with excitement when one of her drawings is well-received.

This afternoon, crammed around a small round table at the university dairy bar, my daughter confided that her experience on Recolor has taught her that she does not want to join any other social media accounts. "I think I am addicted," she says, as I lick my Swiss Chocolate Almond ice cream cone. "I get so excited when people like and comment on my artwork, and then I get so sad later if I have another piece and no one likes it. And this is just my artwork, with people I don't know! Imagine how it would be on real social media, where I know all of the people!"

I considered her words. How many times have I woken up in the morning, and instead of curling up against my husband's sleeping body in bed, have instead scooted over to the right-hand side of the bed to retrieve my iPhone lying on top of my cluttered nightstand? How often have I instantly clicked on the Facebook app, feeling a rush of dopamine as I saw a red symbol at the bottom of the screen illuminated with the news that I had nine new notifications? How often have I felt a jolt of adrenaline as people engaged with what I had to say, and felt embarrassed when a personal post was relatively ignored?

I bit into an almond nestled against my cake cone and responded, "But social media isn't all bad. You can connect with long-lost friends and foster relationships with others you may not know as well. You can be involved in groups with others with common interests. You can keep up with the community. It can even help you find your voice. Not that you need to be on social media. At all! But there is some good there."

My daughter looked at me, her short dirty-blonde hair falling over her ears and highlighting the bright-red streak near her temples. "Well, I'm not sure if my life would be better if I had never joined Recolor. Then I would never know what it was like to want other people to pay attention to you online. Then I would never have become addicted."

And in the flash at that moment, sitting at Call Hall with the whirring cheese-stuffed refrigerators all around us, I realized that my daughter is truly more mature than I am. And I love her so very much.