Dear Mindy Lahiri,

I recently got a Netflix account. Late to the game, I know.

I was immediately faced with option overload, and feeling unable to make a decision as to which new TV show I was eager and willing to sink my time into, I chose something light and easy that wouldn’t be too time (or brain) consuming. Something that could potentially serve as background noise.

Enter The Mindy Project.

I wouldn’t say I was hooked off the first episode. I mean, I was intrigued enough to keep me coming back for more, but it wasn’t really until episode 5 or 6 when I realized this show could never be classified as background noise.

This show was becoming part of my life.

I found myself starting to ditch friends and bail on dinner plans. I would respond to requests for coffee dates with a wishy-washy maybe and never follow up. I stopped reading and cooking and doing anything else that could potentially occupy my time in-house. As soon as I stepped foot through the door, it was all Mindy.

I just like, got you. You know? Or more so I felt like you got me. I mean, sure. You’re a little more out there than I am. I honestly find you a little selfish and a tad loud and you reallllly don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. I’m slightly more reserved.

BUT. You became the one person in my life I could count on to always do something where I would think, yeah girl. Me too. You would always make me laugh and would never judge me for the fact my hair was reaching an uncomfortable level of shampoo-less top knots.

You became my soul sister.

I had my first chiropractor appointment the other day due to a recent knee injury. I strategically wore a pair of loose sweats assuming he’d need to spend some time hangin’ around my legs. So. He’s down at the end of the table bending and prodding and working around the knee caps and suddenly it hit me – I hadn’t shaved since I got dumped 4 weeks ago. This beautiful chiropractor was fully immersing himself in a month’s worth of hair.

My hands got a bit sweaty. My eyes started darting around the room.

“So describe the sense of pain you’ve been feeling in your knees,” he said.

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T SHAVE MY LEGS” I blurted back.

He laughed awkwardly and assured me he hadn’t really noticed until I brought it up.

It was incredibly embarrassing – but I knew my girl Mindy would understand. I mean, it’s come so far that I feel like I’ve actually started feeling your pain.

The other day I woke up feeling heavy. Sad. I felt rejected and alone and had that feeling of complete and utter loss.
I lay there in bed unable to fathom physically rolling out of it and facing the day, trying to nail down why exactly I was feeling like this. My last breakup felt like so long ago I wasn’t sure it had actually happened. My work was good and my friends were good and I wasn’t even able to recall arguing with my mom recently.

Suddenly, it hit me. Suddenly I remembered what had happened to YOU the night before. It was awful and sad and left me feeling broken on the inside – to the point that I truly felt like it had happened to me. I was tragically mourning a life event which happened to a fictional doctor.

Long story short, Mindy. Doctor L. This relationship has been nothing short of exhausting. It has damaged my social life and played havoc on my emotional well-being. I’ve laughed and cried at the most unexpected times simply because I felt so invested in what was happening during those 22 minute episodes that I actually forgot it wasn’t my own life. I completely lost touch with reality.

BUT.

In doing so, I filled a piece of my heart. A piece which I lose every so often but then another fictional character comes along and takes it back. Maybe it’s Anne of Green Gables or that fucking girl from Gone Girl who I hate but affected me an alarming amount. Old Dan and Little Ann from Where the Red Fern Grows. The girl from my favourite trilogy who suddenly died out of nowhere. That one was rough. I was on a plane to England and out of nowhere she fucking DIES and I’m stuck there squished against a stranger sobbing so heavily tears are literally rolling down my neck and my shirt is getting wet and it’s so overwhelming and stressful to the point this girl had to awkwardly lean over and pat my leg and say ‘are you ok?’ and I sputtered out THE GIRL IN MY BOOK JUST DIED and she obviously didn’t understand the extent of this trauma and it was just. Awful.

I get it. I do. I get that these fictional characters are, in fact, fictional characters and I should really get a grasp on reality.
BUT at the same time, I think it’s wonderful that I can experience so much joy and pain and love and loss and LIFE from these people who literally are not real. I think it’s freeing and I think it’s beautiful and I think that yes, I should maybe not ditch people to go home and watch TV but it’s amazing that a character can impact your heart so much.

So, Mindy Lahiri. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being a weirdo fashionista and an incredibly smart doctor and becoming someone I hold near and dear to my heart. You got me through a really tough time girlfriend. Let me know if you ever need a pick me up of your own.

Much love,
Leah Ruehlicke