Vampires are real.

No, I’m not talking about Count Dracula, Lestat de Lioncourt, or even Sesame Street’s Count von Count.

Your vampire might be a parent, a sibling, a lifelong friend, or a coworker.

You know the one: the person who sucks your energy dry and gives you a major case of the ICK when their name appears on your phone.

The emotional vampire.

We’ve all got one.

Maybe they don’t irritate you enough to justify going “no contact,” but you’re exhausted by their unreasonable requests, nasty comments about your life, endless drama, chronic self-sabotage, or whatever particular method they use to drain your life force.

You can’t tell them to completely F#&k off.

But you also can’t go on like this.

Here’s my solution:

I put them on my short list of homeopathic friends.

This means that a few times a year, I’ll connect with them for up to fifteen minutes. I’ll be warm, friendly, and engaged—but I’ll also have total control over when, where, and how we connect.

For instance, I have one relative who suffers from extreme verbal diarrhea. He can talk for an hour or more about absolutely nothing interesting or important—without ever bothering to ask how I am.

Now, when he calls, I don’t answer.

Instead, I text:

“Hey, Henry! I saw that you called. How about we talk next Friday around 3:00 p.m. ET? I’ll have fifteen minutes to catch up. Call me then!”

Half the time, he never calls back.

Problem solved.

The key is to control the dosage, delivery system, and duration.

Some people are manageable by text but intolerable by phone. Others can be enjoyed over lunch, provided you have a hard stop, your own transportation, and possibly a small vial of holy water.

Before we speak, I announce the limit:

“I only have fifteen minutes, but I’d love to catch up.”

Then I stick to it.

No overtime. No emotional hostage situation.

When the time is up, I say, “So good to connect—gotta run!”

I also don’t JADE: justify, argue, defend, or explain.

Vampires love explanations. They see them as loose threads they can pull until your entire boundary unravels.

And I no longer treat every crisis as an engraved invitation to join the drama.

I can say, “That sounds difficult. I trust you’ll figure it out,” without grabbing my cape and racing to the rescue.

Most importantly, I’ve stopped confusing love with access.

I can love someone and still decline to hand them the keys to my nervous system.

I can care about them without being available on demand.

I can wish them well—from a safe distance, during predetermined business hours.

That’s the beauty of a homeopathic relationship: just enough contact to honor the connection, but not enough to break out in hives.

Not everyone needs to be banished from your life.

Some people simply need a smaller prescription.

Take only as directed.

Do not exceed the recommended dose.

And if emotional exhaustion persists, discontinue use and call your therapist.

To your emotional health!

Arielle