Letting Go: When You Have Loved Elmo Too Hard for Too Long

By J . A. Wilan, a two year-old

I see him everywhere. On the TV, on the play piano, in the large plastic beach ball, on my shirts and at the ends of my sneakers. And I hear him, at odd times of the day, while lounging with a dinosaur book or stacking blocks or pulling along the wood trains. Elmo’s voice explodes out of nowhere from the plastic electronic fun toy, laughing robustly and doing his best to explain to me that a nose is for smelling. But it is over between me and Elmo. The love is real but ultimately not nourishing. It is too one-way. He is there for me, but doesn’t really listen to me. He craves attention but doesn’t know how to give back. So I have decided to end it. Not for another furry character, not for Oscar the Grouch or Barney or Sulley from Monsters, Inc. No, I am ending it for myself. And here is my story.

Step One
It is better to love and lost than never to have loved at all.

I am not so sure about that.

What I had with that furry red fella and now don’t is tearing me apart. I am going doubles and triples on my juice boxes, overindulging in Yo Baby peach yogurt, Aquadoodling till my fingers are raw with moisture, putting my stickers on every imaginable surface, and yet nothing is helping. No distraction is enough to make me forget about my Elmo, my dear sweet buoyantly lovely fun-loving pal. I am trying to forget, to move on, but I am finding there was life with Elmo and then there is just, well, life.

Elmo = Addiction
My therapist says it is not my fault, that the tug of Elmo is as powerful as any devised by the cigarette companies, the lure of heroin, the sweet pull off a bottle of ice cold Stoli. I am addicted to Elmo, to his voice and friendly manner, his come hither laugh, his presence and always-game-for fun attitude. And now I am must kick this habit, only there is no nicorette gum or methadone or AA meetings for me. There is only my will and belief in a better world without him. Sometimes I shake with what has happened to me, stamp off and cry in a corner. But I am trying to be strong.