Do you have one? It’s a person who drains your life essence and makes you feel exhausted, diminished, depleted and dark. Whose very presence in a room is enough to give you shudders of insecurity, self-doubt and those little-kid tear pricks in the corners of your eyes?
I have one. And try to be like Lisa, who finds a way to have compassion with everyone, knowing in her heart that we’re all fighting our own difficult battle. Or like Ellie, who can ask of everything, “What’s the lesson in this?” and see the value in even the most frustrating challenges. I try.
But mostly, I want to rip his freaking face off. I want to pitch an old-school, knock-down, throw-myself-on-the-floor fit and scream at the top of my lungs, “Get out of my effing life!”
But I don’t. I remain polite and professional, and send my patient husband scathing emails in which I rail against this vampire, him mother, his neighbors, his dog, his neighbor’s dog, and anyone else who might have contributed to making this person the soul-devouring succubus he is to me.
I am sure he has nice qualities. I don’t care. I am sure he was a cute baby. I don’t care. All I know is that I have to come armed to the hilt for my interactions with him bearing power-mantras, rose quartz, one of those spiked wrist-things, a chocolate chip cookie, Jerry Herman songs, and mace, all wrapped up in a shiny pink Glinda bubble of protection.
Sigh. It makes me want a nap.