My ego and I have had a long and complicated relationship. At 60, I’ve decided it’s time to abandon him completely. He’s not taking it well, but slowly he’s getting the picture: he’s a liability, and I don’t need him hanging around anymore. It’s been a tough breakup—way worse than I ever could’ve predicted. We were so close for so long, after all.
When Ego and I were young, we were inseparable. For a while, it was just him, me, and my mother, of course. Together, Ego and I demanded immediate attention, and if our needs weren’t met, we made it very clear. Physical discomfort? Wail. Hunger? Cry. A new babydoll on the market? Throw ourselves to the ground in protest. That’s just who we were back then—unapologetically needy and dramatic. I depended on him for almost everything.
In my late teens and early twenties, Ego and I were best friends. He was the one who talked me into wearing a push-up bra to manipulate men. (It worked, by the way—there was one time in college when a B became an A, all thanks to a little extra cleavage.) He also convinced me to ask five overweight middle-aged men at a wedding to clear the dining tables so my friends and I could use the space as a dance floor. They happily obliged, but I immediately regretted it. One of them looked like he might keel over from the effort, and I couldn’t handle the guilt. But in my defense, Ego made it all seem so… reasonable at the time.
By my late twenties and early thirties, things started to shift. Manipulating men got boring—especially once I realized how easy it was. That’s when Ego began to get on my nerves. He’d suggest things that just didn’t feel fun anymore. For instance, he wanted me to spend the family vacation budget on Botox so we could keep our “power over men.” I didn’t do it, thank goodness. By then, I had a husband, kids, and a new set of priorities.
But Ego didn’t stop there. He convinced me to talk down to colleagues who were lower on the corporate ladder. For a couple of years, I listened to him, and I regret it deeply. Looking back, I cringe at the things he persuaded me to do. Slowly, I started hanging out with him less and less. I’d make excuses, sidestepping his bad ideas: “No, I don’t need a $4,000 purse” or “Winking at that random guy isn’t on today’s agenda.” It was tough—for both of us.
By my fifties, I’d had enough. I knew we had to break up. This guy was no good for me. Every time we hung out, I felt awful afterward. I lost friends because of him. I just wasn’t a good person when he was around. But breaking up? Easier said than done. Ego is persistent. He’d show up whenever I felt down or not that confident, suggesting we flirt with married men or spend hours perfecting my hair and makeup for fleeting male attention. At first, I tried to let him down easy: “Hey, I think we’ve outgrown each other.” But Ego didn’t take hints. He kept coming back, and I kept caving—yes, I even got Botox once. (It was cheaper by then, and our family finances were in a better place. Still, I should’ve known better.)
Now, in my early sixties, well Im done with him for good. Maybe it’s a lack of patience, or maybe it’s the realization that time is too precious. Whatever it is, I’ve started telling Ego exactly what I think. When he shows up, I look him square in the eye and say, “Fuck off.” Calmly, but firmly.
And you know what? It’s working. He doesn’t come around as much anymore. Maybe it’s just my no nonsense tone with him. Or maybe it’s because he knows I don’t use that word lightly. When I say “fuck,” I mean it. But i gotta say life without Ego is… better. I like myself a lot more. My relationships with family and friends have improved. Sure, every once in a while, I feel a nostalgic twinge—like when I see a $500 sweater that’s calling my name. But then I remember how much lighter I feel without him and move on.
The truth is, life is so much freer now. Without Ego constantly whispering in my ear, I can focus on what truly matters—connections, authenticity, and the joy of simply being myself. Letting go of him has made space for a sense of peace I didn’t even know I was missing.
So, if you’re tired of your Ego hanging around, weighing you down, and holding you back, it might be time to tell him to “fuck off.” Because on the other side of that goodbye? There’s freedom—and it feels incredible.
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