Facebook Torture

It always amazes me what people will post on Facebook: that they have a headache, that they went to the mall, that they have a booger hanging out of their nose. It doesn’t matter what it is, people do it all the time, like anyone gives a crap. Even more amazing to me is when people share all their dirty laundry: their husband cheated on them, their girlfriend got out of jail, they’re visiting their child who’s in foster care. Not only do they share this information with their “friends,” but have absolutely no privacy settings set, so the whole world can read it, or if we’re really lucky, see the color and texture of the booger as well.

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Well you know what? It means that I can check up on people even if they’re not my friend. For instance, when someone thinks it’s appropriate to post pictures of their girlfriend with her child in the waiting room for her visit at the DSS office with me, the foster mother, in the background. I mean, that’s a momentous occasion that should be shared with the world right?
“Here is my girlfriend who had her child taken away, at her twice monthly, one hour supervised visit at the DSS office!”

I’m so sick to my stomach about it right now. I even told the caseworker that she was taking the pictures and that they’d end up on Facebook. I was going to casually mention to the girlfriend that the pictures can’t be shared on Facebook, but I figured I should let the caseworker take care of it. Did she? Nope! Bio-mom does know better, but she posted pictures of the visit on her page too. Can I post pictures on Facebook when I want to share with my friends our camping trip, going to the park, or the zoo? Nope!

Maybe it was done on purpose. Maybe she wants me to see. Maybe she wants to upset me. She succeeded. Do I sound crazy? Well, after a year and a half fight, I feel it’s my right to be crazy right now. I keep trying to put things into perspective. She misses him. There is nothing inappropriate about the pictures. What is the harm? Well, it bothers me when people don’t follow the rules and get away with it. But, hopefully, in the end, it will be one of the last times she ever sees him.

One more gut wrenching, nerve wrecking, torturous visit before court, then hopefully this whole mess will be behind us. I know I’m only hurting myself by stalking checking Facebook all of the time. One month… no, twenty-nine days before they decide what’s in the best interest of Buddy. No twenty-eight days, 20 hours and 18 minutes until they decide the fate of our world.

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