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A friend of mine gave a speech recently about how social media can cause depression.

I am depressed. Yup. I admit it. All those happy, perfectly well-adjusted, secure-in-their-own-skin types who post their selfies from sunrise to Leno are getting me down.

My friend's speech research revealed that most people who post on Facebook are extroverts and narcissists. Well, I thought I fit snugly into that profile, but I can't bring myself to selfie into the Guinness Book of the Clueless. Who cares how white your teeth are? Who cares if your dog got scared from the thunderstorm? Who cares if you broke your nail during a brown out? Everyone knows that those professional photos of your toothless kids are air brushed. Was it really worth an $873 sitting fee just to post your offspring for all other narcissists to see?

But what does this have to do with my depression? And who told that woman that my ex looks like a movie star? Is she kidding? Yes, he was gorgeous at 23, but come on. "I love him so much. He is the man of my dreams," she boast posts. Thank goodness, her dreams came true. Guess what? So did mine.

When I think about posting something, it seems so lame. I thought about posting a photo of our new hardwood floors the other day. They are so shiny and beautiful (and so friggin' expensive). Who really cares? How is my floor photo going to make someone feel? Frustrated that they can't afford to pay Mario to put slivers under their feet? Thrilled that some woman of a certain age gets her jollies from a piece of oak?

The posts that make me feel sad are the ones that show family reunions, trips to South Africa and former students having their eighth kid. My family has reunions without me because I live far away. I would love to go to South Africa, but I can't sit still long enough to get there. My students having children makes me feel old and out of the mainstream.

Poor me. Hmm. That has a narcissistic ring to it.

I have noticed that many people (somehow they snuck onto my friends' list) use profanity in their posts. I was brought up in a genteel home where I was taught that people who swear are ignorant; they are too lazy to get out their Thesaurus to find an intelligent word to express how pissed off they are. The "F" word is now considered a verb, an adjective, an adverb and a noun. These "friends" don't even try to disguise it -they spell it out. They don't even put it in caps, because no one under 40 considers it a "bad" word. I like to say it because it makes me feel young and naughty, but I can't bring myself to actually write it. In some pathetic way, it sets me apart from the ignorant masses.

The only comfort I find in feeling bad when I read posts on social media is that I am guilty of the same offense when I write my holiday letter.

Do I tell all my friends whom I haven't seen for nine years that our equity loan is maxed out, my face looks like a Shar-Pei and I am spending my children's inheritance faster than I can pull up my Macy's coupons?

Of course not. I send such messages as, "We are planning a six-week trip out West in our new sports car. I have no idea how I will fit my Ivanka Trumps into my Louis Vuitton roll-on. Oh, and my daughter and the kids have rented a penthouse in San Diego for a week. Hope we get the king bed."

So sad.

- Sandra Moulin

Sandra Moulin, a freelance writer from Wilmington, N.C., is a retired master French and humanities high school and college teacher. She has self-published two volumes of humorous essays, Before and Laughter and Laughterwards. She writes for four local publications and gives humorous workshops and presentations.