Culling the herd

At least, once a year (or when I’m in a mood), I look through my list of Facebook friends and the list of folks I follow on Twitter and Instagram and do a little trimming here and there.

I cull the herd on Twitter and Instagram usually because my interests have shifted. I haven’t blocked anyone from those sites yet. I suppose there is always a first and it might happen eventually.

Facebook is a little different. Depending on the situation and/or how I feel about a particular individual, I won’t hesitate to unfriend them. If I’m feeling particularly sour or homicidal about the person, I’ll block them.

Sometimes, I have to think long and hard whether or not to cut certain individuals from my social media life and in some cases, from my life completely. And almost always, they get deep sixed. Yeah, I’ve been unfriended, too. All I can say is good riddance. Glad they made the first move. I sure as hell don’t miss them.

Recently, I culled one from the herd. To be honest, given our history, I shouldn’t have accepted his friend request. But I was feeling comfortable with where I am in my life and I thought, ok, enough time has passed, so let’s see if it’s possible to consciously move forward in a positive manner.

Well… that was a big fucking mistake. Let sleeping dogs. Don’t walk or drive through the neighbourhood. Stay away. For some things, second chances were never on the table.

So now, I have a few things I need to get off my chest…

First, if you’re asking me to participate in rebuilding our broken relationship, I (that would be me) get to control the pace on how quickly, or slowly, the rebuilding process runs, not you. I will not be coerced into something that is ultimately a falsehood for me, just to make you feel better.

Second, just because you seem eager to get the ball rolling, doesn’t mean I really want the ball to roll that fast. As it turns out, I never wanted the ball to roll in the first place. I didn’t realize that until I started feeling cornered, claustrophobic and expected to do something that would be normally considered, in certain circles, the right thing to do. The right thing, in this case, was absolutely wrong for me.

Third, I acknowledge and take responsibility for my choices and my actions. Nothing more, nothing less. DO NOT ask me to take on your responsibilities and own them. I will bury you. And that goes for all the other assholes, male and female, who have put the blame on me when things didn’t go their way in the relationship. You want a fucking doormat, go to the nearest hardware or home decor store and pick one up to wipe your feet with. Have a nice life, fuckers.

And fourth, I will not sacrifice my agency just to please someone or to keep that person in my life. In other words, I will not set myself on fire just to keep you warm.

So, yeah. Every once and awhile, I will cull the herd.

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