Translator: Leonardo Silva Reviewer: Mile Živković
The great thing about Facebook
is that people from your past can reconnect with you.
And the terrible thing about Facebook
is that people from your past can reconnect with you.
(Laughter)
About a year ago, I received a series of Facebook messages
from a male acquaintance that I hadn't seen in ages.
There was no context for these messages.
Just, "I miss you." "I miss you." "I really miss you."
This made me really uncomfortable,
but the thought of not responding felt uncomfortable too,
because what if I hurt his feelings?
So, I did what many of us do to cope in the face of deep inner conflict:
I procrastinated by scrolling through my news feed.
But later, I asked my husband what he thought,
and he said something profound, "You don't owe anyone an interaction."
Being a writer, I said, "Wow! Can I quote you on that?"
He said yes, and so I did.
I published a post expanding on that core idea.
I wrote about how many people feel compelled to respond
to anyone who reaches out to them.
I wrote about how we've been conditioned to believe
that being kind means being available 24/7,
but, when we don't guard our time, our ability to be kind actually erodes.
The topic touched a nerve and the essay went viral on The Huffington Post,
but some commenters thought "you don't owe anyone an interaction"
meant sacrificing compassion on the altar of efficiency.
While that wasn't my intention, it does raise an important question:
in this age of unprecedented connectivity,
how can we give to others without getting burned out ourselves?
To help me answer that question, I turned to a book called "Give and Take,"
where an author, Adam Grant, makes a startling, but research-based claim.
He says that people who give more than they receive
are actually the most productive and highest earning workers.
It pays to be a giver.
However, there is an important caveat in this research,
which is there are actually two subcategories of givers.
The first and most successful type
gives while guarding their personal limits.
They set boundaries,
and they hold self-interest and other interest simultaneously.
For them, it isn't self or others. It's self and others.
By contrast, the second and least successful type
gives to the point of exhaustion.
They have trouble saying no to anyone.
As a result, they are always tired,
and I know this because I used to be one of them.
I used to believe that, if I didn't give away
every ounce of energy in service to others,
I was somehow being selfish.
And a lot of times, we equate being a giver solely with that second type,
with being depleted.
And that's what holds us back.
We're afraid to be depleted, and so we don't give.
We equate being a giver solely with that second type.
However, there is a better way to be a giver,
and you can set boundaries, you can set those limits,
and that's what led me to actually try a Facebook experiment.
I was inspired by anthropologist Robin Dunbar,
who says that the number of people with whom you can maintain
stable, ongoing social interaction is approximately 150.
That's all.
Beyond that, most of us lose our capacity for meaningful connection.
So, in my Facebook experiment, I stayed friends with everyone,
but I followed only a select few.
And I loved it.
I had more energy to connect with the people closest to me
in real life,
but I did feel some inner resistance and I wondered,
"Am I being selfish by not following all of my friends?"
But then I realized that honoring my own needs
is not necessarily the same as being selfish.
In fact, Elizabeth Gilbert writes
that, in the Mandarin language, there are two words for "selfish."
The first word means "to be greedy or hoarding,"
but the second word means "to do something good for yourself."
So, in the end, I deleted those Facebook messages,
those repeated "I miss you."
I was willing to let that guy miss me.
I just wasn't willing to miss myself.
Thank you.
(Applause)