Dear friend,
We are holding this intervention to inform you that your work in therapy and your subsequent updated communication skills have made you a worse person to be around. This is a formal request for you to stop your “healing journey.”
Stop analyzing my life!
Whether I was complaining about my on-again, off-again situation or my bootlicking co-worker, you just used to assure me they were broken idiots – and I love a roast that looks like something a cartoon villain might say.
But ever since you started unlearning your patterns, you’ve been theorizing about how Derek’s avoidant attachment style keeps us in a toxic dynamic of short-term reconciliation. And how the generation gap between me and my colleague requires patience, due to our divergent ethics.
Like, yeah, you’re right, but this conversation sucks! You don’t think I know these things? I didn’t sleep with my Psych 101 TA to now be forced to “chat” with you over tapas.
Stop being so honest!
You used to either validate my interests or say, “If you like it, I like it.” I’m glad you can finally open up, but now you won’t stop expressing your opinions, and I didn’t realize you did that a lot of them – about music, my drinking, the way I drive. . . .
I’m sorry for listening to Beyoncé and drinking cheap whiskey. I know, I’m basic as hell! I’m sorry, I’m a left lane guard. If I’m going to let someone take the fast lane, they better be on their best behavior. It’s a privilege. They better not embarrass me with their student-driver energy after so graciously letting their Kia in. I think it’s only fair that I then cut them off. If you don’t like it, don’t carpool with me.
Stop being so available!
Previously, it took you three to four days to respond. Sometimes seven if there was a new binge-worthy show. Although it was annoying when I was trying to plan dinner and figure out where to find my sneaky link afterwards, you are now responding too quickly. The second I hit send, your text bubbles are already disappearing. If I wanted immediacy, I’d call you (although, obviously, I would never do that).
Thank you for being more emotionally available, but can you be a little less available? There’s no mystery, there’s no pushing and pulling, it’s all pulling and I’m choking. You can’t contact me every day to hang out. We’re lunch friends, not FaceTime friends. We are “send each other memes and recipes” friends, not triple text friends. Don’t mess with the delicate forces of the knowledge ecosystem. It will be more difficult to obtain it.
Stop setting so many limits!
I’m certainly happy for you that you were able to call your self-centeredness and lack of punctuality a pseudo TikTok diagnosis. But the therapeutic discourse has gone too far. Watching reality TV 24/7 is not “taking care of yourself”, cutting your nails in the salon is not “putting your needs first”, canceling last minute when I’m already at the bell bottom bar for a disco night is not “setting boundaries” and telling you I’m gay is not “trauma dumping”.
You can’t randomly move my 20k marathon medal because it creates a “toxic competitive environment.” And if the next time I ask you to do the dishes you respond with “I hear you but I need time to process,” I will absolutely stop “making space” for you in this house.
Stop being vulnerable!
There was a time when Ariana Grande, accused of being a home wrecker, would have been the subject of an hour-long discussion between us. Now all we do is dissect your trauma. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, but now I’m going to need therapy to unpack your therapy. Is this your therapist’s goal? Is there an MLM therapist I don’t know? I can’t argue with how your tendency to date Geminis is related to your childhood neglect every time we go out. I need this to end.
Stop trying to connect!
I am clearly a woman who speaks very little. Before you started nurturing your inner child and starting a transparent dialogue, we were both on the phone while ignoring the movie we had spent an hour deciding on. We’d share funny videos, hot gossip about the messy life of someone we knew, then watch TV when something loud happened and pretend we were paying attention the whole time.
Now all you want to do is ask me some deep questions about my past. I feel like I’m at a press conference hosted by Brené Brown. I don’t want to examine my triggers or understand my coping mechanisms. Ignorance is bliss. Self-consciousness is a mental prison. If I realize our reality, I will have to recognize that I am not doing enough to help people or this planet. That I gave up. For the love of God, please continue to block me until we order takeout. ♦
