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That's the way it works.
Jim Broede
Posted: Sunday, February 28, 2016 10:47 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Sunday, February 28, 2016 11:54 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Monday, February 29, 2016 7:31 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Tuesday, March 1, 2016 10:02 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Thursday, March 3, 2016 4:44 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Friday, March 4, 2016 1:37 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Monday, March 14, 2016 5:31 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Monday, March 14, 2016 10:40 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Wednesday, March 16, 2016 6:36 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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
Jim Broede
Posted: Thursday, March 17, 2016 6:56 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Friday, March 18, 2016 5:48 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Sunday, March 20, 2016 4:24 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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

 


Jim Broede
Posted: Sunday, March 20, 2016 11:44 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


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