-{ redgeek.net }-

I have a very low threshold for drama. I don’t indulge in it and I don’t like people trying to suck me into theirs. Now, there’s stress, catastrophic circumstances, sorrow, grief – all sort of things that are part of dramatic lives – but in this respect I’m referring to that which is artificially manufactured.

A few months ago I alluded to an extremely draining experience I couldn’t talk about. I still can’t give particulars, as I gave my word, but my friends also deserve to know that which keeping me from being with them. Basically, the scenario was thus: an acquaintance was on the brink of suicide. Definitely dramatic, and not drama. This was real life. She was emotionally scattered, physically emaciated from malnutrition, causing a variety of secondary ailments and injuries. She’d been admitted and extricated from hospitals, both physical and mental. I hadn’t known her too well prior to the emergencies – I actually knew her through her ex, although we’d hung out in the same group every once in a while over the years.

For whatever reason – valid or not, I’m not the one to judge – she decided that there were three people in the world she trusted: her father, myself, and another person that lives several thousand miles away. She needed to talk, she needed someone to listen and just sit at the other end of the phone (I live a good hour or two from her), and there were some things she didn’t want to talk about with her father, which is understandable. So, Far Away Guy and myself took turns spending hours on the phone. I also drove up to visit her at the very beginning, when hysteria was at it’s peak. My theory was, if she’s still talking, she not dead, so let her talk.

Staying up late at her place, talking on the phone, taking breaks from work to speak with her were the start of the siphon – of course, I was more than willing to do it, I didn’t want to see her off herself and I thought there was genuine chance she might do it – but between the hectic work schedule and the emotional drain of listening to hours of convoluted, depressing tales every day took it’s toll. I was missing my martial arts classes – my own anchoring tool – to speak with her, or more often than not, just listen.

At one point, before leaving her house late one night, I just hugged her and held her for a while. Her face skin was sallow and she’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight; I could encircle her bicep with my hand. Her muscles had atrophied to the point that stairs were difficult, her gate was rickety and she spent most of her time on the couch. She threw up most of her meals.

She said it’d been a long time since anyone had hugged her; I thought that absolutely terrible. Everyone needs affection every once in a while. She asked me if I could just hold her there on the couch, just stay there for a bit. I acquiesced.

She snuggled in closer.

I was less comfortable.

She snuggled in even closer.

I got even less comfortable.

She absent-mindedly stroked my chest.

She sensed my apprehension: “Why are you tensing up?”

“I just want to make sure you know I’m here as a friend.”

“Of course. What else?”

“Nothing else. I just want to make sure we’re clear about that.”

“What, do you think something’s going to happen?”

“No, nothing will happen; I wouldn’t let anything happen. I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

“So there’s nothing to worry about, so your shouldn’t be holding back.”

“Listen, I’m just getting a little uncomfortable with this. I should go.”

“You can stay here tonight.”

“No, I don’t think I should. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She seemed somewhat pissed at me for a while, but eventually the calls returned to normal. I had to start ignoring them, though, when they starting coming in at two or seven in the morning, or several times during my work day, when work starting to notice my prolonged absence during business hours. If I have to find a new job, I’d have even less time to help her. I reserved phone calls for the nights.

As time passed, the inevitable evolution germinated. I’d hear the same story once, twice, five, eight, ten times, each time more exaggerated, each time increasing the derision of San Diego and everyone in it (except me, appended quickly), how she could get back at everyone if she wanted (including me, appended quickly), how she has a far superior understanding of just about everything than anybody (she’s smart, but nobody’s that good), and how she has no capability to change her environment.

I’ll agree, yes, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and although I didn’t, I wanted to yell and scream at her and tell her Damn it, you are not that powerless. Take your self-indulgent wallowing, drink it up, let yourself become self-absorbed as long as you need to, then vomit it up. Reject it, expel it, destroy it. You’re strong, you can do this.

When the contradictions starting flowing, I excused myself from the entire scenario. When she began giving reasons as to why she couldn’t do something because it might endanger her well-being (“too weak to bathe or drive, I might drown or get in an accident”), but would still threaten with suicide (“If you gave me a gun right now I’d kill myself”), I knew she was past the hump. She wasn’t well, but she realized there were dozen of ways she could do to kill herself had she truly wanted to. She was opting for attention over death, a good sign. But I had no attention left to give. Dramatic was turning to drama, real issues to manufactured ones.

I kept tabs on her indirectly, ensuring she was doing sufficiently well – and she is doing better, although I don’t have specifics – but we haven’t been in direct contact for over a month. I truly hope she’s improving, I truly hope she’s able to work out the rest of her issues. I can say with absolute certainty that I don’t want to see her dead or broken; I want to see her doing well.

Even when it’s the darkest, there’s someone there to support you, someone you might not even expect it from. You’re never alone, despite what it seems. However, you can only receive support, you can’t demand it. And when you receive it, you can’t become dependent, you can’t expect support. But you can appreciate it when it comes your way. She reminded me of that.