My Abusive Relationship with Diabolical Stats

Every time I try to leave Stats behind and move forward he keeps sucking me back in.

I have an admission to make — I’m an addict. I have been in an abusive relationship with Medium Stats for about 8 months and despite the harm that has come from it, I keep going back for more.

When I first met Stats, things were great. I had started writing on Medium, and was having fun with it. I didn’t have a ton of expectations figuring I’d see where things went and if it seemed worth it, I’d think about writing on the platform regularly. This continued for a few months and I was encouraged by the small amount of money I made, which increased slightly each month. It was more than I expected to earn right off the bat.

A couple of months in, the editor of a publication asked if she could publish one of my stories. It appeared the same day. Life was good and I was happy with what seemed to be the possibility of steady growth as a writer and the possibility of earning money while I did it.

Then one day Medium introduced me to Stats. I guess I was aware of him and I admit, having heard other writers talking, I had checked him out a couple of times before. I can’t say I was initially impressed.

He was nothing much to look at, just a bunch of black numbers on a white background, really rather boring. I tend to look for excitement in a relationship, someone with color, someone who makes my heart beat a bit faster when I’m around them.

I couldn’t understand all the fuss I saw other writers making over Stats. It wasn’t like he was the Beatles, or Rudolf Nureyev or Shah Rukh Khan. All the screaming, and crying and fainting, with everyone trying to get his attention. I just didn’t get it.

A writer I knew from another platform introduced me to one of the Facebook groups and I fell in with a bad crowd. They weren’t bad people, mind you, and the fault was mine. But everyone wants to be popular, don’t they? So I jumped in with both feet. Soon I learned there were other Facebook groups and ways of promoting my articles and I spent most of the hours of the day and much of the night on one platform or another. Then it happened.

Looking back, I was the one who approached Stats. I needed a way to determine whether my writing was having the impact I was hoping for and a few writers whispered to me that he was the way. So I went to where I knew he’d be and cast an attempted subtle subtle glance over at him. And each time he noticed, which I knew because he rewarded me with higher numbers. They may have only been in black and white, but once they started moving, I found I couldn’t look away. Once, twice, three times and I was hooked. He promised me the moon.

“Stick with me, kid,” he said. “And I’ll make you soar!”

And for a time he did. Stats made me feel special, talented, like I was a rising star whose future success had no bounds Looking back on this, it was once big, sad cliché.

The Fall

I should have known what was coming. People like Stats are in it for the novelty, for the chase, for the feeling of power they get from knowing they have you enthralled. Once they get you hooked, they lose interest.

When Stats first started pulling away, I thought it was just a one time thing. I doubled my attention to the writing I published, trying to more clearly display my commitment to him, my devotion. I became more sporadic in my involvement with other writers, spending less and less time on Facebook and stopped worrying about promoting my works elsewhere. All of my focus and time went to writing as I tried to get him to treat me like he once did.

But he just moved further away. My numbers started dropping, my earnings plateaued then decreased. I started a publication, then a second one, sure that would impress him. It didn’t. I ran a contest convinced he’d have to agree to show up. He wouldn’t. The less he seemed to focus on me, the more I chased him. Numbers began to plummeting and my mood and motivation matched pace.

I hit rock bottom. Numbers and earnings were continuing to move in a downward direction, picking up speed. Stats had isolated me from the other writers I had once turned to for support, and finally, as I knew he would even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself, he turned away completely, to start chasing another new writer.

I couldn’t write. I couldn’t read other people’s work. I couldn’t return to Facebook. There was no predicting when someone might mention him, excitedly recounting the incredible things he was doing for them as their numbers and earnings took off.

Even though he was clearly pursuing others, and had been the entire time even if I wouldn’t let myself see it, he wasn’t willing to let go of me entirely. Every time I tried to pull away, refusing to so much as look at him, he’d find a way to pull me back in. If nothing else, every time Wednesday rolled around he’d seduce me with what ifs.

“What if your earnings doubled again like they used to? You know you can’t tell anything about earnings from your numbers. You have no way of knowing how much of that engagement came from paying members. Maybe all of it. Come on baby, take a look.”

And I would. Once in a while, though my numbers had dropped, my earnings would have gone up. I’d recommit myself to my purpose, convinced I could impress him, draw him back to me. I’d write, promote, run back to him. It was never enough. Still he kept me shackled with promises that he’d never hurt me again, never cheat on me again with other writers. But they were promises he never kept

Miserable, I considered leaving Medium altogether. I thought a clean break would be the only way that I could leave him, the only way that I could survive as a writer. I started pursuing other opportunities, hoping something would make me feel that excitement again, that high I longed for. But I never found anything that made me feel the way Stats had and in the end, I always returned, to Medium and to him.

Today

Although I’m still in the relationship, I’m making progress towards separating myself from Stats. They are baby steps, but they are steps nonetheless.

I decided to go public with my story in the hopes it would prevent others from suffering the way I have. I know Stats can be charming, can make you feel like you’re the only writer in the world. Believe me, I know.

You’ll want to look at him. You’ll try to make it seem like it’s just coincidence that you show up where he is, until you catch his attention. By then you’ll be hooked.

You’ll be convinced it will be different for you. It won’t.

Please, whatever you do, stay away from Stats. He will only break your heart. Get help before it’s too late.

If you’re already addicted, don’t despair. There are options. Talk to someone trained in counseling people hooked on Stats. Join a support group. If it gets really bad, check yourself into a hospital where they can safely detox you and get you started on the recovery process.

Don’t let Stats take months or years away from you, years you could have been growing as a writer had it not been for him. Don’t let him convince you that it’s better not to write at all rather than to have to cope with being unable to get away from him.

If we band together, we can prevent him from ruining other bright stars in the writing community. Together we can beat him.

If you are suffering from an addition to Stats, or are otherwise in an abusive relationship with him and need help breaking free, call the Stats Crisis Hotline at 1–800–555-xxxx.

Natalie Frank, has a Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology. She is a writer and editor for publications on and off Medium. She enjoys writing humor and is currently putting together a collection of humorous stories about the psychological disorders favorite childhood characters may be suffering from.

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