After 14 months, I realize I must break up with you. It finally dawned on me that our relationship is toxic and you, my friend, suffer from severe narcissistic personality disorder.
Your razzle-dazzle headline-grabbing style confused and bowled me over for quite some time. Your larger-than-life presence made me feel that I couldn’t live without you. That somehow I needed to think about you constantly and play by your exact rules to survive.
Well, I’m Clear-Headed Now:
After a Pfizer intervention, it has slowly dawned on me that I want OUT.
Your exaggerated sense of self-importance, entitlement, and constant need for excessive attention has worn me out. I am ready to turn on the television and not be bombarded with statistics of your latest conquests. And worse than that, I don’t care a bit for your exaggerated achievements of mutation and reinvention. Don’t you know that pivoting is soooooo 2020?
“You culled me from the herd, isolating me from my friends and family, controlling my every move.”
You, Mr. Pandemic, have seriously monopolized every conversation of mine for over a year. I am sick and tired of watching you belittle or look down on people you perceive as inferior. Somehow you managed to run rampant and destroy those who exhibited any signs of weakness, no matter how small.
I finally realized you could not care less about my needs and feelings. You culled me from the herd, isolating me from my friends and family, controlling my every move. It’s directly your fault that I lost so many joy-filling opportunities. You wouldn’t let me go out to eat. There was not a single live song or dance to experience. I think you hid my passport.
Some Good Times:
I would be remiss if I said the relationship was entirely bad. We had some good times, a few laughs. I would be negligent if I didn’t credit you with some wonderful moments.
You facilitated an inordinate amount of time spent with my high-school-senior son. Without your insistent demands for loyalty and exclusivity, he would have spent his last year of high school mostly behind the wheel of his car, hanging out with his rowdy teen friends. Instead, this past year is replete with many wonderful activities with him: family dinners, conversations, and movie watching – all in our home, of course.
And in full disclosure, it sure was swell to have a scapegoat to support my introverted indulgences. I never realized how freeing it is to say “No” to an invitation and not worry about how it is perceived. Blaming you for my absences turns out to be way more accepted than “I have a headache.” or “I need to wash my hair.” I will miss having an irrefutable excuse to avoid large gatherings. Heck, any size gathering, for that matter.
Yes, You Cured My FOMO:
“You gave me permission to rest easy when saying “No”.”
It was kind of you to cure me of my FOMO (fear of missing out). Due to your very public temper tantrums, we all participated in fewer and fewer events. You gave me permission to rest easy when saying “No”. Knowing that I wasn’t in jeopardy of being overlooked or forgotten.
But I’m done. This letter is long overdue. You can’t control me anymore. If I get an invitation, I want the option, no, I NEED the option to say YES again, if I want, without checking with you first. And, if all I can muster up as an excuse for abstaining is a hair washing episode, well that’s on me. It’s not as if I haven’t had plenty of time to drum up a repertoire of responses.