The Fine Art of Breaking Down in Public, or An Open Letter to A Friend Who Never Was

Dear Almost-Friend,

Sometimes, people have to lock themselves in their mental basements with their demons to figure things out for themselves.  This is not fun.  This is not easy.  But this is something that everyone has to do for themselves.  Nobody who cares about you can drag you into your basement.  Everyone who cares about you is absolutely willing to drag you out of your basement.  But in the end, you have to remember, dear Friend, that this is a rite of passage, this is an unalienable part of being human.  You have to face off with your fears.

In the meantime, all of the people who want to save you -- the crusaders in their white cloaks carrying gleaming swords and shields -- aren't doing you any favors.  Yes, it's nice to surround yourself with people who say they love you and will tell you what you want to hear, all in the name of friendship.  It's easy to forget that all relationships are built on give and take, even if the forgetting is only temporary.  Maybe it's convenient to have these fans who adore you -- but be careful of ever saying they adore you unconditionally.  That's never true.  All things wear conditions, Friend.

But as I said, they're not really helping you.  They're flattering you and making you think you have more power than you actually have.  This won't help you when it comes time for you to truly face off against that demon-infested basement.  You'll realize the sword you're carrying is made of tin, and the shield is glass, and you will again wail for help and postponement of the inevitable.

Those who really want to help you will do it for their own reasons.  They will force you downstairs and lock you in with your demons.  You will be forced to acknowledge that you are not as smart, professional, or capable as you thought.  You aren't beautiful.  You aren't responsible.  You're as flawed as everyone else.  You've hidden behind labels for your dysfunction for a long time, Friend -- but we all have labeled and unlabeled dysfunctions.  Yours isn't better than ours.  Yours isn't even that rare or special.

But we all have business to attend to.  We all have everyday life we have to take care of.  Dropping out of life and your responsibilities isn't an option, unless you're willing to face the consequences.  For most of us, it's loss of job, companionship, and livelihood.  For you, who have made your own job and worn a badge of pride in your stated lack of need for companionship, this isn't a problem, really.  However, maybe now you're starting to realize that the consequences will catch up with you just the same.

In the end, your refusal to face your demons or be a grown-up is your problem, of course.  Everyone's entitled to their own personal party full of stupid mistakes they'll regret later and asshattery everyone wishes they'd someday leave behind.

When you start to force your drama on other people, however -- well, that's where I have to draw the line.  You may think your silence is a great way to keep your breakdown from becoming public.  That would be true if it was just a lack of whining about your circumstances and asking for your crusaders to come to your defense.  Unfortunately, your breakdown has become very public to those of us who know you and have hitched our wagons to your drowning star.  In the end:

You have no right to drag people down with you into your basement.


These are your demons.  You have to face them alone.  Only your true friends will tell you that, and still expect a phone call in the morning.

So there you have it.  I've unhitched my wagon from you, because I've had enough of you making your common dysfunction much more than it is in your own mind, and your lies, and your avoidance.  Surround yourself with crusaders if you want.

I still expect a phone call in the morning.