The report suggests that Facebook distorts our perception of reality - we buy in to the oh-so-fabulous commentary on other people's lives to such an extent that we can't help but evaluate our own less-than-perfect lives as inadequate.
These findings don't come as a surprise to me. I used to love Facebook but, almost a year ago, the crappiness of real life pulled me away when our youngest daughter, then aged nine, was taken ill with a painful form of inflammatory disease and we had a terrible and protracted time getting a diagnosis.
The all-consuming aspects of endless hospital visits and months of sleep deprivation and worry meant that, for much of the last year, posting on Facebook was the last thing on my mind. I needed physical hugs, not cyber-embraces.
Now she's on the mend and life is enjoyable again, so in the summer I came back to my online social life - but found myself on the outside looking in. Instead of throwing myself back into the Facebook frenzy, I sat back. I wasn't inclined to go back because I realised that, being away from Facebook, I felt better - dare I say, happier?
Before my daughter's illness, I was pretty much addicted to Facebook: I would post up to four times a day, sometimes more. It was the last thing I checked at night and the first place I turned to upon waking. I'd be engaging in online conversations via the site in parallel to the rest of my life. All of this was costing me a good three hours out of every day.
Today, those hours are filled with fresh air down at my allotment, socialising with friends face to face, organising my life and increasing my work output. As a result, I have more energy and I'm sleeping better (research has shown that the blue light emitted by screens is especially effective at keeping you awake, because it suppresses the production of the sleep-inducing hormone melatonin). I also feel more fulfilled professionally (comparing myself less to my peers probably has helped me to simply "be"), and things are less chaotic on the domestic front, as I am more engaged with the things in front of me and less distracted by those far away. I can't remember the last time my nine-year-old pleaded with me to get off my phone, or accused me of loving my mobile more than I do her (any fool knows that it's not just adults begging their children to get off screens these days).
But while all of this does make me feel more engaged in the world, I disagree with anyone who says that Facebook isn't real life. For me, it is very real, almost too real, and that is one of the things about it that I now realise was making me feel bad.
The scattergun approach to making friends on Facebook meant that I was suddenly sharing relative intimacies with people whom I'd normally exchange only vague pleasantries with in passing.
Suddenly, the friend of a friend who takes her children to the local park had added me and found her way into my social circle. Now my newsfeed was full of her racist jokes, offensive language and questionable views on child rearing. In turn, she had been privy to everything from my husband's infuriating obsession with recycling to how sad I was about the death of a family friend.
Of course, I used Facebook's settings to obscure her posts and deny her access to mine. But it exposed the facade of the niceties we once shared when we pushed our toddlers on the swings. I now know so much about what goes on in her head that I'd cross the busiest main road to avoid her.
I've also got embroiled in enormous rows on the site on two subjects that should never come up in polite conversation: religion and politics. There are people who now view me as differently as I do them as a result, which is a shame. They haven't changed, and nor have I - but our perceptions have for ever more.
But that's not to say I'm off Facebook altogether. It's still my go-to place to find out what the people who interest me have been up to.
I still enjoy seeing their holiday snaps and baby pictures. I love the way I discover new music, books and even TV programmes through the recommendations of people who probably have a healthier relationship with Facebook than I used to.
The site has become such an intrinsic part of the fabric of our lives that to walk away from it would be to cut myself off from great people who have interesting things to say. It's an enormous font of knowledge and opinion that I'd hate to lose access to. But I have to mind my work, life and social media balance. Being on the outside looking in has become my happy place.
Six rules for 'Happy Facebooking'
• Delete Facebook from your phone - or at the very least switch off notifications. Otherwise, every time your mobile pings, you'll find your best intentions to cut back thwarted by a Pavlovian response to see who's posted.
• Dedicate half an hour once or twice a week to catching up. There is much to be said for being exposed to the musings, interests and opinions of a wide circle of people. You just don't have to be exposed to them all of the time.
• If you're a reformed addict, like me, and are terrified of getting sucked back in, don't post comments or engage in debates. Even the odd 'Like' here, and pithy post there, can only end one way - you, back on Facebook, all day, every day.
• Don't tell people that you're sick of Facebook and hate the banality of it. You'll come across as smug and superior and will end up with half your friends list deleting you anyway.
• Instead of brutally culling people from your friends list - which can just cause more upset - simply go into your settings and hide posts from anyone who consistently posts updates that make you feel irritated or angry.
• Facebook misery is often caused by feelings of jealousy or envy. Is it Facebook that is making you unhappy or your own internal setting that hankers over what others have? If that is the case, your issue may be with yourself and not social media.
