My problem-riddled student wanted to have lunch with me this weekend. I dithered, said probably not... today tried to have a chat instead. She told me she misses me - as she always does. Last week she said hello on facebook and said
'48 hrs!'
'Longest yet!'
Turns out she counts the hours between getting to talk to me. I had no idea how to articulate how uncomfortable that makes me. The same with her telling me she misses me all the time. I had to try and make it a bit clearer to her today that I don't have space in my life for her needs. And apologised for allowing her to think I did, or encouraging her... sort of. It's very difficult to balance, and I haven't done it right.
She had said she was going to go to Portugal; I was suspicious, but she made it seem fairly legit sounding. Today, in response to me trying to say that I didn't have enough time in my life for the friends I do have, she said 'I have plans... everything will be ok far away' - so I'm fairly sure the plan is to go somewhere else and kill herself.
But... here is the thing with 'saving' someone from suicide - you can't then be there all the time, or become their reason for living. It's a perverse proposition. If my attention is the only thing keeping her happy... she's not happy.
The fucking irony of it - I've a daughter who hates me and who I can't be around for more than 30 minutes without some stupid fight breaking out, a brother who never sees me, a sister I dislike and who dislikes me, a virtually estranged father, a husband who couldn't bear to be with me... but I'm the be and all and end all to an abused, suicidal Brazilian girl. Fuck my life.
I would love to call my friend Cassie, who I adore, and with whom I laugh like no one else, and who gets in touch with me once every ... 4 months? But I know she's busy, I know she's tired, that she has every-day friends in her life that she needs to see, so I let her come to me.
I would love to walk up to ... I don't know, my tall male colleague, and ask for a cuddly hug that went on for longer than 20 seconds so I'd get an oxytocin hit, but I recognise that this is inappropriate.
It's my fault for allowing it, though... the saddest thing is that I won't do it again - offer that level of help, in case of a repeat. I hate that she's proved my cynical, job--ends--here colleagues right. I feel stupid, and culpable, and stressed by it all. But I can't keep up a charade of friendship because of that.
'48 hrs!'
'Longest yet!'
Turns out she counts the hours between getting to talk to me. I had no idea how to articulate how uncomfortable that makes me. The same with her telling me she misses me all the time. I had to try and make it a bit clearer to her today that I don't have space in my life for her needs. And apologised for allowing her to think I did, or encouraging her... sort of. It's very difficult to balance, and I haven't done it right.
She had said she was going to go to Portugal; I was suspicious, but she made it seem fairly legit sounding. Today, in response to me trying to say that I didn't have enough time in my life for the friends I do have, she said 'I have plans... everything will be ok far away' - so I'm fairly sure the plan is to go somewhere else and kill herself.
But... here is the thing with 'saving' someone from suicide - you can't then be there all the time, or become their reason for living. It's a perverse proposition. If my attention is the only thing keeping her happy... she's not happy.
The fucking irony of it - I've a daughter who hates me and who I can't be around for more than 30 minutes without some stupid fight breaking out, a brother who never sees me, a sister I dislike and who dislikes me, a virtually estranged father, a husband who couldn't bear to be with me... but I'm the be and all and end all to an abused, suicidal Brazilian girl. Fuck my life.
I would love to call my friend Cassie, who I adore, and with whom I laugh like no one else, and who gets in touch with me once every ... 4 months? But I know she's busy, I know she's tired, that she has every-day friends in her life that she needs to see, so I let her come to me.
I would love to walk up to ... I don't know, my tall male colleague, and ask for a cuddly hug that went on for longer than 20 seconds so I'd get an oxytocin hit, but I recognise that this is inappropriate.
It's my fault for allowing it, though... the saddest thing is that I won't do it again - offer that level of help, in case of a repeat. I hate that she's proved my cynical, job--ends--here colleagues right. I feel stupid, and culpable, and stressed by it all. But I can't keep up a charade of friendship because of that.
6 comments:
You are truly between a rock and a hard place.
Oh, Jo. I'm so sorry.
I
The fucking irony of it - I've a daughter who hates me and who I can't be around for more than 30 minutes without some stupid fight breaking out, a brother who never sees me, a sister I dislike and who dislikes me, a virtually estranged father, a husband who couldn't bear to be with me... but I'm the be and all and end all to an abused, suicidal Brazilian girl. Fuck my life.
Cant beat that! ...........never yave , never will x
This is such a hard situation. I had a friend once who called me every night and talked about suicide and I finally had to stop it as it was making me miserable. I told her she needed professional help, I even got so honest with her that I asked her why she talked about it but didn't just do it? She finally stopped because she knew I wasn't buying it. You need to pull yourself out some way. But it is agonizing figuring out how when you thing you are responsible for a life. You really are not and that's the truth.
Oh no, I absolutely am not, no argument there. As I said to Mary before, if the only thing keeping her alive is my company, then it's no life.
But she's told me she's going to go back to Brazil, she misses her nephew and nieces - and her sister's having another baby.
Fingers crossed.
Can you phone her parents? Then you can hand over the problem and not feel bad.
In short, no. They're a large part of the problem.
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