The Front Row Theory

Photo credit: Moi.

There’s a podcast making the rounds on social media that has stuck with me, and I haven’t even listened to it in its entirety.

Mel Robbins talks about her “Let Them Theory” as a tool to fight anxiety, navigate difficult relationships, and handle fading relationships. It’s easy to see why this episode has become so popular. And it’s easy to understand why this message has stayed with me even though I’ve only been exposed to maybe 45 seconds of the podcast via various Instagram posts.

It’s hard not to take getting the cold shoulder personally, but Ms. Robbins’s adage rings true. When someone wants to leave, let them. When a group of friends plan a trip without you, let them. When your sister-in-law wants to take your role of hosting Thanksgiving, let her. It frees you from those controlling thoughts that inevitably lead to disaster, and it can aid in alleviating anxiety.

It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, this guidance does not mean people should stay in abusive relationships or tolerate bullying. Some behavior warrants only a clear “thank you, next.”

The “Let Them Theory” also could apply, I suppose, to interactions with total strangers. That guy was rude in the grocery store? Let him sit with that miserable behavior. Someone cut you off in traffic? Let them be on their way and don’t wallow in their negative wake.

“It’s so liberating to learn that you can drop the sword,” Robbins says. “You can just let go.”

I’m gonna take Ms. Robbins’s theory one step further and tell you about my Front Row Theory.

For many years, I maintained unhealthy relationships because I thought there was some sort of badge of honor for being able to say, “We’ve been friends since forever.” Sure there is a sweetness that comes with a long-lasting friendship, but that sweetness gets watered down real fast when every.single.person is awarded the title of Bestie. And when the realization sets in that you ranked the Bestie much higher in your life than they ranked you in theirs, well that stings.

It also hurts when you realize you’ve invested thoughtful care and effort into a relationship, and yet they showed a shallow interest in you.

Enter the Front Row Theory.

Not everyone in your life has to have immediate access to you at all times. Not everyone needs to know the ins and outs of your life. Not everyone warrants hopping on a plane and spending gobs of money so that you can attend one of their life events. Not everyone deserves your unending presence or service, especially when it’s clear they have little interest in sitting in the front row of your life. Let them sit where they want, and act accordingly.

This requires you to take an honest and objective look at the people in your life. Family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, and so on are all welcome into your life, and they all can take a seat. Some people will be further back than others. When they slip out the exit it won’t be quite so jarring. Those relationships in the front row will be given the special care a relationship with deep roots needs to thrive. There is also less room for stifling expectations and controlling behavior.

All too often, relationship advice focuses on how to find a new relationship or how to end a relationship, but what about those seasons when people are busy or sick? Or when you are emotionally overwhelmed with whatever it is that consumes your time. Or, maybe more importantly, when you’ve outgrown a relationship?

I don’t think you need to perform a dramatic closing ceremony for outgrown or seasonal relationships. What if instead of showing someone the door, you simply offer them a seat toward the back of the auditorium? Sometimes that person will have a change of their own, and there’ll be a chance to reconnect down the line.

The theory also works if you put the shoe on the other foot. When friends or family members seem preoccupied or takes ages to text back, position yourself toward the back of their auditorium. Or, as Ms. Robbins says, “let them.”

Now, there are times people leave the auditorium. And there are times you have to leave an auditorium.

That’s where I find myself. Relationships I mistook for friendships revealed themselves to be seasonal transactions, and that has deeply bruised my heart. There are particular people in whom I invested significant amounts of time and energy, even as they were difficult and unkind. I suppose all along they were showing me their true character, yet I continued to write another bio for them. They left the auditorium, and I let them.

I am also holding myself accountable for the times I was lackluster when someone needed a cheerleader, or my selfishness caused me to overlook or downplay an important event in a friend’s life. Or the times I let laziness get in the way of replying to messages.  I suppose we are more susceptible to handling our relationships carelessly when our priorities are not aligned, and this was certainly the case after I allowed a job to consume me.

That failure on my part taught me certain things, even significant things, in life should never be given a seat in the auditorium because they will not nurture my emotional needs. Jobs and expectations can be vampiric, occupying so much of our time and efforts while taking away from the relationships that sustain us.

It's tempting to prioritize demanding jobs that will never have our backs at the expense of those dear ones who wait in the front row of our lives. And it’s easy to mistake expectations for a false reality when it comes to relationships, which can lead to unhealthy controlling behavior like wallowing in the past or manipulation.

If you invest thoughtful care and effort in a person, and all the while they remain detached and uninterested in the details of your life, see them for what they are – back row people – and save your front row seats for people who genuinely celebrate you.