Breaking up is hard to do. Or so Neil Sedaka crooned in 1962.
Finding a special person with whom to share your life often helps validate of your worth. The external locus of confirmation is not the way it supposed to be done. In fact, your uniqueness and individuality should be embraced every time you glance at a reflective surface. The general consensus dictates that loving yourself is priority, and then others will naturally love you because joy and confidence will be exuded at such an abundance that it will be almost viral, affecting everyone in near proximity. This will subsequently make others love you even more. A giant magnetic circle of loving.
Alas, we all know some people who are simply not nice and who not only worship themselves, but are convinced that everyone also finds them irresistible. The assurance they exude is nauseating and lacks any appeal. They confuse confidence and arrogance, which, granted, is a fine line. How can you embrace your own quirks and believe you are the best you can be when these narcissistic examples of self-importance are the proof that the love-yourself theory is terribly flawed? SSecond-party, or maybe even third-party, validation is often needed to boost and confirm that you are not one of the disillusioned. And that is where the special relationship becomes so important.
It’s great to be with someone who makes you feel good, with whom you can joke, banter, cuddle and play. Common interests and support shown by words and action makes everything more enjoyable.
But until the perfect match is found, many unions then separations will occur. It’s inevitable. Part of the life experience. At first there is denial; the clues are subtle. Words are exchanged, we hope they are forgotten. There are sighs of exasperation when no one is listening, eyes that roll when no one is looking. Eventually the tornado of dread starts to whirl in the stomach.
It’s over except for the final goodbye, and I think I’d like to take the opportunity to say my goodbye quietly, here. Making it a public will just add to the drama of the ending of a love affair.
Facebook, it was good while it lasted. When we first met, I was enthralled by your ability to reacquaint me to old friends. I was amused at how quickly information could be disseminated. I was in awe of the jokes that kept me laughing. I was amazed at how many of my peers are grandparents when I am still fighting with a three-year-old. You gave me something to do on many evenings.
I will be honest with you. I like puppies, kittens, silly birds and cartoons. I hate cancer, diabetes, missing children and car accidents. You reintroduced to me the same chain letters and famous quotes I read one thousand times before you came into my life. I am not sure why you keep showing me what you bought if you have no intention of buying it for me. I have strong opinions about religion and politics and no matter what ends up on my news feed, I am not changing my mind. I am not reposting any of it, don’t take it personally. I do not care if you are at Applebee’s or the car wash. I would rather not know what you are having for dinner, unless of course, I am invited. And please, oh please stop showing me pictures of your tongue. Eww.
It’s great to see that so many people have a strong support system and have friends in their lives to bring them through the tough times. Oh my goodness, though, proclaiming that your friends are the family you wish you had when your blood relatives are able to read your posts makes me tense. It adds too much stress in my life when I read one person is clearly mad at someone else and although no names are mentioned, there are enough details to make ensure nothing remains ambiguous.
All this added tension makes me eat, so on top of everything else, you are making fat.
How could it happen? I thought we would be together forever. I thought nothing would drag me from reading the nationwide social news. Through you, I was able to easily connect the friendship dots across the country and years. You made me feel loved with all of your anonymous words. It was fun while it lasted.
In the end, you told me too much while trying to be vague. I think you’ve changed. It hurts my head.
I wish you all the best. But believe me, it’s not me, it’s you.
DeeDee Corbitt Sauter is a resident of Prince William County. Her column, “Tambourines and Elephants,” appears monthly in Prince William Living.