David McElroy

It’s been years since I figured out that my father was a narcissist. It’s been years since I started understanding the effects he had on me — how he warped my mind and damaged me at my core. And every time I start thinking that I’ve already dealt with the lingering legacy of his dysfunctional programming, I see something in myself that reminds me that he’s still inside me — in ways that might never change — and that I have to constantly watch for bits and pieces of his dysfunction to come out in me.

I was driving home from work this evening when it happened again. I started thinking about doing something that was nominally a good thing to do — but then I realized what my motivation was. I realized that I was once again trying to prove to myself that I was a good person. The old programming had kicked in once more.

This is the next in a series of videos dealing with issues that come up for me to think about as I write a book about my childhood experience of growing up with a narcissistic father. You can visit that YouTube channel to subscribe to future videos. (Liking and subscribing help me quite a bit in helping others to see the videos.) Or you can watch the most recent video below.

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When I checked Facebook Thursday morning, a huge, ugly warning had taken over the screen on the app. Thinking it could be glitch, I tried it on a web browser on my MacBook, but I got the same bizarre warning.

Facebook had blocked me from using my personal account — posting, commenting or taking any other actions — for the next three days. Why? The shocking explanation was that I had allegedly been posting content related to “child sexual exploitation.”

I was shocked and angry at such an ugly accusation.

The warning said that the content had been removed, but it would not tell me what the offending content might have been. I could ask for a review of the decision, but it said the review would take something like four or five days. When I pressed the appeal anyway, I found that it was useless, because it wanted me to explain why my offending post didn’t violate Facebook’s rules — even though it wouldn’t tell me what the offending post was.

My Facebook profile is public, so anybody can see what I post. Most of what I post consists of cat and dog photos. I make observations about things I see in the world. I post a few ridiculous jokes. But I’ve never posted anything even vaguely sexual, much less anything related to “child sexual exploitation.”

But because of an automated moderation system that apparently has the intelligence of a rather idiotic earthworm, I finally experienced what friends of mine have experienced before. I’m in “Facebook jail.”

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This is a story that I didn’t talk about for years, because I’m a rational person who’s never been inclined to believe in anything so inexplicably supernatural. Anything that happened had to have a natural explanation — or so I thought until I lived in this house.

I wrote a slightly longer version of this story here about 10 years ago, but I still don’t understand what happened. I thought it was an appropriate “ghost story” for Halloween — since it really happened to me.

By the way, there were a couple of flies buzzing around while I was recording this, so if you think you see or hear something with wings during this video, I can assure you that you’re not imagining that.

You can find the video on YouTube or you can watch the embedded version below.

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