Ending My Toxic Relationship With A 7-Year-Old Trick-or-Treater
Every time I hear the doorbell ring, I’m triggered.
Hi Aidan, I’m glad you finally showed up to my doorstep with your pillowcase wearing the Iron Man costume you’ve worn for the past three years. But tonight instead of dropping a jawbreaker, I’m unfortunately going to have to drop you a heartbreaker — and some boundaries. I know I’m just your 44-year-old adult neighbor who you only see once a year at Halloween, but I have to tell you something. For years at Halloween, I’ve been feeling gaslit but I never got the courage to tell you in person because I was scared you’d throw a hissy fit, give me a noogie, or call me a booger-eater. I only hear from you one day a year and when you do show up at my house unannounced, you demand candy. At first I thought it was cute and I was charmed how you rhymed treat, feet, and eat. Unfortunately, all you did was take and never reciprocated. Through self-reflection and journaling, I finally realized you’re actually a narcissist. Your pillowcase was full, but your heart was empty. After my free trial with BetterHelp ended, I was conveniently ready to tell you about the toll this one-sided relationship has taken on me.
Firstly, can I ask you if you have the emotional capacity for me to share and discuss what’s been on my mind? You say you’re seven years old and your frontal lobe isn’t fully formed yet so it doesn’t matter? Great, then I’ll proceed.
Aidan, I’ve noticed that whenever you reach out to me on Halloween, I’m doing a lot of giving and you’re doing a lot of taking. Honestly, it’s toxic. I’m giving you candy, I’m complimenting your costume, the list goes on. And it’s always been this way. Sometimes, it would just be nice if you gave me candy once in a while. Or said you liked my outfit. For years I’ve convinced myself that your lack of interest in my life was weaponized incompetence, but I’m no longer making excuses for you. When you ring my doorbell and say “trick or treat,” it feels like you’re pressuring me, backing me into a corner and not really allowing me to make autonomous decisions for myself. It makes me feel like if I don’t give you what you want, you won’t be my friend anymore. As I always do–because my BetterHelp therapist, Brian, said I’m a people pleaser–I give you the candy to keep you in my life.
I’ve always tried to be a supportive friend to you. When you ring the doorbell, I get up–even if it’s right in the middle of a delicious Factor dinner that my wife prepared. Every year, I exclaim, “Wow, look how scary this firefighter/Ninja Turtle/Iron Man for the third time (but not as fun as Iron Man III) is!” even when I can tell immediately that it’s just you, Aidan, plain as day. I save the Kit Kats and Reese’s Cups for you, even when you prioritize the Johnsons’ and the Millers’ houses over mine in your rounds. I just always feel like a second-choice for you. Like last year, when the Cavanaughs were out of town on their family vacation to Disneyland? They only left a bowl of candy with a hand in it out front that said “Please only take one” but it was empty when you got to it. And you came running over to me. I can’t be a savior for you anymore. But I did because I was manipulated enough to do anything to stay in your life. But I don’t know if I can hold space for you anymore.
I know you’re seven years old, but the trauma of our relationship will take 77 years to recover from. Every time I hear the doorbell ring, I’m triggered. I’ve tried to compartmentalize you, but I’m having so many intrusive thoughts thinking about you and your baggage. My spouse thinks I’m crazy but I’ve even suggested getting rid of our doorbell, but the horror of someone knocking on the door to give me an Amazon package would have been a cowardly move. Halloween is a scary enough holiday on its own and you running up and down my street with your shoes untied sends shivers down my spine. So, Aidan, we need to go no contact not only to protect our relationship, but also to protect your mouth from cavities. I hope you learn that if you want to have a healthy relationship with someone, you need to learn how to put effort into the relationship, and not just breadcrumb me on October 31 and then ghost (not the fun kind, the hurtful kind) for the rest of the year.
Sorry to trauma dump, but goodbye Aidan. I need to protect my peace. Do not even think about setting up any playdate. And I swear, I will call the cops if you ding dong ditch me. Maybe you feel like you can keep treating Mr. Williams across the street like this, but I won’t put up with your codependency any longer. But Aidan, let me just say I wish you well and hope you don’t catch any cases of the cooties at school.
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