Auction of Matthew Perry’s personal items: a letter from Jennifer Aniston
22 may 2026 в 23:13
Matthew Perry’s wallet will be up for sale next month. It can be purchased for $ 1,650. The auction will also feature his AAA card, SAG trophy, and a multitude of personal items, which already looks like a transformation of grief into merchandise.
But the item that struck me is a painfully touching letter from Jennifer Aniston.
The internet wants you to view this auction like everything else: clickable, sortable. Celebrity life is broken down into lots and starting bids. I want you to look at it the way I do after twenty years of working with couples in San Francisco.
Because this letter is not a collectible item. It is proof of how human love actually works when someone you adore is sinking.
This is what I can’t stop thinking about as a therapist.
In my view, we are an interdependent species. We are born needing a primary attachment figure, from cradle to grave. When someone experiences unbearable pain, their nervous system doesn’t wait for a suitable coping strategy. It reaches for what soothes the fastest.
In my practice, I call this competing attachment. Everything we turn to for comfort instead of our partner or loved ones. Sometimes it’s work. Sometimes it’s pornography. Sometimes it’s substances. Substance use sends two tragic messages to those who love the addict: «You are not my priority» and «You are unacceptable as you are».
Matthew’s struggle with addiction was not a moral failing. It was an organism seeking comfort in something else because the pain of feeling inadequate was too heavy to bear alone.
Now look at the letter.
The human body is the original distributed ledger. It records every significant interaction, every moment of safety, every moment of abandonment. And you cannot erase those blocks. The wallet held his money. The trophy confirmed his talent. But this letter is a physical record of his attachment system. It is undeniable proof that a secure base is trying to reach him.
When someone you love is sinking, writing letters, pleading, and trying to tether them to the ground is a biological protest against the agony of disconnection. That’s what you see when you look at the lot description. Not memorabilia. Protest.
I see the ghosts of this dynamic every Tuesday. Founders, executives, creatives with their own versions of SAG trophies on the mantle. Success on the outside, fear on the inside.
I use a metaphor with these couples: Penthouse and Basement.
The partner who reaches out, writes letters, and stages interventions is the Unyielding Lover. They live in the Penthouse, with high expectations and high pain. The one who hides inside addiction or avoidance is the Unwanted Lover, curled up in the Basement for safety. The Unyielding reaches out. The Unwanted retreats. Both feel fundamentally invisible.
The sober partner usually comes to my office as a world-renowned expert on their partner’s issues. I tell them: if I held a conference next week on what’s wrong with your partner, you would be the keynote speaker. They want me to fix the addict.
But, as Dr. Gabor Maté says, suffering in connection underlies addiction. When I look at the partner in the basement, I don’t see a villain. I see a person who believes deep down that there is a void that can never be filled. A person who fears that if they fully show up, their inadequacy will finally be revealed.
If any of this resonates with you, recognize your relationship model before you start scrolling again.
And here’s where I become resolute. Culture wants to label friends in the form of Aniston as «codependent». I throw that word in the trash. I won’t let my clients call themselves codependent. Being consumed by the well-being of a loved one is one way a person has learned to survive
But the item that struck me is a painfully touching letter from Jennifer Aniston.
The internet wants you to view this auction like everything else: clickable, sortable. Celebrity life is broken down into lots and starting bids. I want you to look at it the way I do after twenty years of working with couples in San Francisco.
Because this letter is not a collectible item. It is proof of how human love actually works when someone you adore is sinking.
This is what I can’t stop thinking about as a therapist.
In my view, we are an interdependent species. We are born needing a primary attachment figure, from cradle to grave. When someone experiences unbearable pain, their nervous system doesn’t wait for a suitable coping strategy. It reaches for what soothes the fastest.
In my practice, I call this competing attachment. Everything we turn to for comfort instead of our partner or loved ones. Sometimes it’s work. Sometimes it’s pornography. Sometimes it’s substances. Substance use sends two tragic messages to those who love the addict: «You are not my priority» and «You are unacceptable as you are».
Matthew’s struggle with addiction was not a moral failing. It was an organism seeking comfort in something else because the pain of feeling inadequate was too heavy to bear alone.
Now look at the letter.
The human body is the original distributed ledger. It records every significant interaction, every moment of safety, every moment of abandonment. And you cannot erase those blocks. The wallet held his money. The trophy confirmed his talent. But this letter is a physical record of his attachment system. It is undeniable proof that a secure base is trying to reach him.
When someone you love is sinking, writing letters, pleading, and trying to tether them to the ground is a biological protest against the agony of disconnection. That’s what you see when you look at the lot description. Not memorabilia. Protest.
I see the ghosts of this dynamic every Tuesday. Founders, executives, creatives with their own versions of SAG trophies on the mantle. Success on the outside, fear on the inside.
I use a metaphor with these couples: Penthouse and Basement.
The partner who reaches out, writes letters, and stages interventions is the Unyielding Lover. They live in the Penthouse, with high expectations and high pain. The one who hides inside addiction or avoidance is the Unwanted Lover, curled up in the Basement for safety. The Unyielding reaches out. The Unwanted retreats. Both feel fundamentally invisible.
The sober partner usually comes to my office as a world-renowned expert on their partner’s issues. I tell them: if I held a conference next week on what’s wrong with your partner, you would be the keynote speaker. They want me to fix the addict.
But, as Dr. Gabor Maté says, suffering in connection underlies addiction. When I look at the partner in the basement, I don’t see a villain. I see a person who believes deep down that there is a void that can never be filled. A person who fears that if they fully show up, their inadequacy will finally be revealed.
If any of this resonates with you, recognize your relationship model before you start scrolling again.
And here’s where I become resolute. Culture wants to label friends in the form of Aniston as «codependent». I throw that word in the trash. I won’t let my clients call themselves codependent. Being consumed by the well-being of a loved one is one way a person has learned to survive
© Artemenko Olga
