Toxic People

As I’ve moved ever deeper into my calling, place and voice there are those I’m ditching for the sake of my wellbeing. I won’t be, for instance, giving my bile-belching siblings my forwarding address when we relocate to our new home. I’ve finally realized that some people are genetically programmed to discount me (I’m being gentle, here), and it doesn’t matter if they were born to the same parents as me. I had a dear friend and counselor ask me once, “Are you sure these are your siblings?”

Indeed.

This leads directly to the point I want to make here. Don’t be confused by names, titles, relationship or pedigree lines. Anyone – and I mean anyone – who leaves you feeling crushed like last year’s fallen leaves in the compost bin is not good for you.

They might have their own best friends and they might even tie their friends' shoe laces for them when their backs are gimped up. It doesn’t matter. If you feel like yesterday’s chewed gum when they’re around, then they’re bad for you. And that is the litmus test for deciding if somebody belongs in your own personal portfolio of friends-you-want-to-share-the-room with. Or the phone line. Or maybe even the same planet or at least continent.

Perhaps you are tortured by an idea of spiritual acceptance that renders your life as sacrificial fodder for the sadistic twists of others. I struggled for years under that delusional umbrella. But, no more.

Just think what your glorious life can do to bless the earth if it’s not all twisted up and crumpled like fallen gum wrappers?

Don’t sell yourself out like that. It’s a form of collusion with the devil to maim your own gentle spirit in the name of serving another, who – frankly – sees you as sticky goo under their sole.

Here’s what I know: When you’ve discovered someone is toxic to your soul, you really do need to stop inviting them to your dinner parties. Because they will always – and always – bring along a side of rat poison, sometimes cleverly dressed up as the most beautiful cranberry relish, made “just for yeuuw”.

When you’ve gagged this stuff down as many times as I have and been green-sick for days after, you come to realize that the potion they carefully custom fit “just for you” was taken from a book of Ill-Will.

Drop them.

Come back alive. We really, really want you that way.