Focus of the Relationship Part 3

The Parasocial Experience

The idea of building a business using social media had been incredibly alluring. At first, I felt like the ultimate life-hacker. They say the best way to gain a following is to share authentically and vulnerably so that followers begin to “know, like and trust” you. No matter how incredible a product is, people purchase most things from an emotional place. “They are buying YOU, as much or more than the product you sell.” Being expressive, self-aware, creative and enjoying writing, it was easy to funnel my energy into content creation. Because I enjoy learning about and listening to people from all backgrounds and perspectives, engaging people from all walks of life in non-judgemental dialogue was fun. I have a knack for seeing people's potential, so taking people under my wing was natural, and I excelled at attracting people as customers and team members.

Along the way, though, I realized something. The paradox of the parasocial experience—where an unnatural connection is forged in a strange, unnatural and non-reciprocal way. I came to realize that people cared more about how they were reflected through my eyes, the hope and inspiration I gave them, the unconditional presence I offered and being seen than they cared about actual me. The ever-increasing number of people I needed to manage and being required to continually add to the roster of humans I served was what was overwhelming me. The lack of space for the relationships that nourished me and how these business relationships were eroding my family and friendships is something I was no longer able to withstand during halfway through the Covid-19 pandemic, an intensely sensitive time in the collective consciousness.

But, despite the war that was being waged on my conscience, I was still wrapped around the little finger of The Company. I was still mostly grateful for all that I had achieved and all that I was receiving as a result of working all those years with The Company. My self-esteem was taking a dive though, and at the height of my success, I was beginning to look into cosmetic surgery procedures to sell better the story I was telling of health and vitality. My mood each day was tied to the number on my scale, and I punished myself if it tipped past the number I had decided acceptable. I could not post a picture without first editing it to whiten my teeth, erase the circles under my eyes and brighten up my skin. Sometimes, I even edited the photos of my sons so that nothing was ever out there showing them looking anything less than perfect. I was sliding down a slippery slope and becoming completely Fake. Of course, those who really knew me inside and out would start to feel alienated.

The Dunbar Number

Scientists have long been debating how many friendships someone can actually maintain. In 1993, an anthropologist named Robin Dunbar came up with a numerical theory later known as “The Dunbar Number” which postulates that one can maintain a maximum of 150 friendships. Some have worked to debunk the number 150 as arbitrary, and argue that humans are complex beings who are adjusting to the “hyper-connectivity” of the digital age and that we can learn to maintain more relationships than we once could in the early 90’s. Dunbar holds that his theory has not only stood the test of time, but is more relevant than ever.

I never, ever felt caught up when I was working with The Company. The apps for email, Facebook, Instagram, Voxer and text notifications would regularly sat at well over 2,000 combined. That was over TWO THOUSAND things I was supposed to look at, or consider looking at, every day. Jenny, one of her recruits, Sam, and I were at an airport once, coming home from a team retreat; introverted but assertive, Sam decided it was a good time to give me some feedback that had been bothering her. Sam said she noticed the neglected alerts on my phone and that it sends the message that I can’t be counted on to respond or that I am too overwhelmed to deal with more messages. Jenny showed solidarity with her friend by slowly nodding and silently looking down. After that, I learned how to silence all notifications and regularly click the “read all” button on my emails and texts. So, that was helpful I guess, but I felt guilty all the time. Nothing was ever enough, and the goalpost kept moving.

There was an event in a nearby city one evening, and Jenny and I decided to turn the occasion into a sleepover with as many ladies as we could pack into two adjoining hotel rooms, which I paid for. I could not afford to treat everyone, but there was pressure to portray a level of success that others could aspire to. Ironically, my up-upline didn’t even think of buying me a taco at my first conference, but later, she encouraged me to spend money she knew I did not have on hotels and Airbnb rentals to get my team to attend events... I did not recognize the expectation gap; I was blindly and obediently working my business as I was told.

Jenny and I were inviting to the event with enthusiasm and “casting vision” as we were trained for current and prospective team members. “You deserve a girl’s night!” we told them. “It will be way more fun with you,” we ego-stroked. During that event, I first realized that the “real-ness” that attracted these women to being looped into this business was not completely authentic. At the same time, it was true that I was honest and vulnerable and ‘real’ in my Instagram and Facebook; but it was still a polished and edited realness that did not accurately reflect the nuances of my life and my story. When I showed up in the flesh, meeting several of them for the first time off-screen, the deflated expectations were palpable. I felt like I was not the beacon of hope, confidence and success they had imagined themselves becoming. My shoes were scuffed, my teeth coffee-stained, and my sweater dress pilled. Without the sun shining directly at my face, my age clearly showed through lines and dark circles. And, in real life, I am actually shy. In Zoom and Facebook Live, I can perform and talk to an invisible audience for hours with ease. In person, I have difficulty with the art of conversation and reading subtle social cues.

Back home, I continued growing and building online and remained awkward offscreen. It felt as my following grew that I became increasingly uncomfortable in person. My personality had become split—who I was online at odds with the woman wrangling two kids at the park. As well, using my kids to film baking tutorials and as fodder for my Stories had become problematic, as I feared bringing my kid's places where my online friends might see that my kids aren’t the angels they see on the interweb. In real life, my kids fight, scream, and talk back. I didn’t want my children to feel what I had felt in the hotel room three years ago. I found myself navigating a fucked-up territory that nobody talks about that I had to discover for myself.

Obedient and brainwashed: Conducting a “Momentum Monday” training on “Building Team”

The Connection Call

One of the most important income-producing activities we were told to do, besides attending and promoting events, was booking “connection calls.” These are sometimes phone calls, but usually, Zoom video chats, where we bring a customer, prospect or team member onto the screen with our upline or another leader in the company. Every MLM does this. We are told that people “don’t know what they don’t know,” the connection call enables third-party validation since they won’t listen to you. The connection call lends credibility, and it also models for this person the wonderfully supportive community that they, too, could be a part of.