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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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My friend Julie doesn’t believe in herself. That’s the
problem. I believe in Julie. And so does
her husband Rick. But that’s not good enough.
If Julie is to become a functioning human being again. She must begin to
believe in herself. Now she’s on the road
to a slow, methodical suicide. I
wish Julie would decide to save herself. By seeking help. By going into
psychotherapy. By throwing away her wine bottles. By going on an anti-depressant. By falling in
love. With life once again. Julie is on a steady decline. Physically. Mentally.
Emotionally. Won’t surprise me if she’s dead in a year or two. Or maybe next
week or next month. All it would take is a bout of pneumonia. Julie wouldn’t have the stamina (and maybe not
even the desire) to fight it off. Of course, the death won’t be ruled a
suicide. But really, Julie had the
option to save herself. And she didn’t choose to. That’s the sad part. The survivors will
lament. For a while. And then get on with their lives. That’s the way it works.
--Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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The power of persuasion. I like to use it. To convince my
sick friends. To get well. That especially goes for those with mental illness.
I’m often told. That it’s best to listen to the mentally ill. Get them to talk.
Openly. About their mental problems and hang-ups. But I want to do more than listen. I want to intercede. To be a friendly
psychotherapist. That recommends concrete solutions. And coaxes. The mentally disturbed. In a persuasive
manner. To seek the necessary help.
Unfortunately, many are in no shape to recognize their need for help. Indeed,
that’s sad. Especially so when their friends fail to come to the rescue. Little
wonder. That I have no qualms about forcing the likes of my depressed alcoholic
friend Julie into extended treatment.
Whether she likes it or not. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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It’s as if Julie can’t stop feeling bad about herself.
That’s the nature of depression, I suppose. Julie has lost faith. In her own
being. A total lack of confidence. And Julie doesn’t know how to be happy
again. Julie becomes a recluse. Goes upstairs. To her bedroom. And stares out
the window. Instead of seeing a beautiful lake, Julie sees a bleak and
unsettled tomorrow. Seeking relief. In a wine bottle. A depressant. Julie sinks deeper and deeper
into the abyss of despair. And here we are. Her so-called friends. Watching. Wishing we had the wherewithal. The
means. The words. The knack. The power. To make for a happy ending to the story
of Julie’s beleaguered life. I don’t get it. I’m stupefied. What are we all waiting for? --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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It’s no coincidence. That I have no desire to change my very
best friends. I’ve learned to accept
them. Unconditionally. Just the way they are. Even their weaknesses and
foibles. But I confess. That I try to change some of my friends. Particularly,
Julie. I keep insisting that Julie find ways to become happy. Instead of what she has become. A recluse. In
depression. An alcoholic, too. I still accept Julie. As a good friend. Despite her
shortcomings. But Julie isn’t my best friend. It’s difficult accepting Julie. Unconditionally.
I try to, of course But it’s a
struggle. Being around Julie can be
disconcerting. Because she’s almost always unhappy. Her dour mood rubs off on
me. In negative ways. Therefore, I sometimes steer clear of Julie. For my own sake. I’m not particularly proud of that. But
that’s the way it is. I simply want a better Julie. The present one is
unacceptable. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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My friend Julie is living a life of illusion. As are so many
others. Julie is in the same boat as politicians. Such as the Republican
presidential aspirants. Donald Trump. Ted Cruz. Marco Rubio. I’m listening to
everyone these days. And I can hardly believe. What I’m hearing. From Julie.
All the way to men that might easily become our next president. And I swear.
They’re all crazy. Maybe the world has gone complete bonkers. Is all this stuff
real? Or am I imagining it all? Maybe I’m crazy, too. For thinking. That I can
save Julie. Rescue her. From her life of illusion. As a manic depressive. As an
alcoholic. By arranging an intervention. Yes. Yes. I’m under the grand
illusion. That it’s possible for Julie to come out of her illusion. And live
happily ever after. I believe in fairy tales. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Visited with my friend Julie today. She’s in a bout of deep
depression. I listened and listened and listened. Figuring that was the appropriate thing.
Tried to say nice things to Julie. Tried to buoy her spirit and confidence. To
no avail. She was home alone. Husband Rick was at work. And he took their dog
Sasha with him. Anyway, being alone isn’t good for Julie. Especially when she’s
in depression. Tried to get Julie to occupy her mind. With upbeat thoughts.
Again, to no avail. Julie said she missed ‘the dog.’ Yes, she called Sasha ‘the
dog.’ She’s done that before. I call it to Julie’s attention. It would be the
same as me calling Julie ‘the woman.’ Anyway, it was something for Julie to
think about. To divert her mind. I try all sorts of things. Often to no avail.
But I keep trying. This and that. There’s an occasional breakthrough. Julie saw
that I was becoming beleaguered. Frustrated. So she kindly encouraged me to go
for a walk. I did. Went two miles. Cleared my mind. Then I returned. Rang the
doorbell. Several times. No answer. I tried the door. It was locked. By now, I know Julie’s predictable
routine. She’s up in her bedroom.
Sipping wine. Maybe even guzzling it. All the more reason. For Julie to get
help. To go into treatment. Until she .learns to take care of herself.
Meanwhile. I’m taking care of myself. Walking. Walking. Walking. Immersing
myself. In good vibes. Getting Julie off my mind. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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It’s in my power. To save Julie. From herself. Julie’s
husband Rick. He has such power, too. Julie’s numerous friends, too. Society, too. But we don’t. Because the
prevailing wisdom is for Julie to save herself. It’s up to Julie. To sink to
rock bottom. To decide to quit drinking. On her own. But Julie isn’t ready to
be saved. Maybe never will be. Instead, Julie may choose to remain distraught.
In despair. Incapable. Of turning around her life. Unless. By some miracle. There
comes a saving grace. Out of the blue. Because Julie and the rest of us don’t
take the proper action. We are standby friends. Forever watching. Counting
time. Maybe even wishing. That Julie
sees the light. Before it’s too late. To save herself. So that we can witness a miracle. Yes, a miracle. That we could deliver. On our own. With a little bit of gumption. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
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The world is dotted by crazy people. Out of control. But some how. Some way. They find ways to
survive. Outside of institutions. Outside of places where they could receive help. Makes me wonder how they do it. Of course, I know. Pure luck. They go ignored. They sink or swim. And it’s
pure chance that some of them survive. My friend Julie. The alcoholic and
depression-riddled one. Is a prime example. Oh, we don’t totally ignore Julie.
We see her crazy antics. Virtually every day. We notice. And we put up with it.
Because we are uncertain if Julie qualifies as certifiably crazy. Maybe not,
technically speaking. Some of the gurus that determine such stuff. Well, they
claim that Julie has a right to be free and loose crazy. As long as she’s not a
threat to others. Actually, she is a threat. Every time she drives drunk. But
she hasn’t been caught. Yet. Yes, more proof. That Julie survives. With maybe a
divine assist. Often called pure luck. But I’m suggesting. That, in reality. Julie
is a lucky son of a gun. Because she
hasn’t been arrested for drunk driving. Hasn’t yet killed herself, or anyone
else. Please tell me. Is that a curse or
a stroke of luck? --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Don’t tell me. That things can’t be done. That
friend Julie can’t be cured. Of alcoholism. And depression. I’m told. There are
barriers. That Julie can’t be forced into treatment. That’s baloney. I’m told.
That Julie must make the decision. On her own. That we must wait. And be
patient. More baloney. Julie’s friends. Could cart Julie off. Today. To the
hospital. To rehab. To potentially effective treatment. Yes, at this very
moment. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. It isn’t Julie’s lack of will.
It’s ours. That ain’t baloney. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Hallelujah! Julie has
been arrested. For drunk driving. She’s in jail. In detox. Presumably, this will lead to a court-ordered long,
arduous path to rehab. To full recovery. Let’s hope. It’s not too late. For a happy
ending to the Julie story. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Finally. Finally. Finally. Julie is in rehab. If all goes as
planned, she’ll be in for 30 days. A
blend of group and individual therapies. I’m feeling optimistic about Julie. Despite reports that therapy doesn’t always
work. That there’s a recidivism rate of nearly 70 percent. In this particular program. But that means
three in 10 succeed. I’m smiling. Julie will succeed. I believe in Julie. So does husband Rick. And so do very many
friends. Now it’s time for Julie to believe in herself. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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The important thing. Julie is in treatment. Doesn’t matter
how she got there. Because this gives Julie hope. A fighting chance. The
pessimist says. That even in treatment, Julie has a 70 percent chance of
failure. I prefer being the unbounded optimist. A 30 percent chance of success.
A full recovery. From alcoholism. From depression. Julie can do it. Julie can
beat the odds. Julie has the wherewithal. And she’s getting help. From friends.
From everyone. Even from a health care system. That could be far better. But
help is help. And hope is hope. There are better days ahead. For dear Julie. It
must be. Yes, the sun is shining again. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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My friend Julie. Isn’t suicidal. In the conventional sense.
She’s not going to kill herself. Intentionally. In a planned, conscious way.
Instead, she’s capable of taking her life in an unplanned, unconscious
way. By poisoning herself. With
alcohol. If she continues to drink,
she’ll die before her time. Julie has reached a crossroads. She’s into
treatment. Calculated to deal with her drinking problem and depression. If
treatment succeeds. Julie most likely will soon be on the road to recovery. Raising
the possibility. That the cause of her death some day could very well be old
age. So much better. Than a premature
death. From alcohol-induced stuff. --Jim
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