Sunday morning, I checked in on Rusty before heading to the garden (the propagation station was out of control). I planted out the pothos and the red arrow and checked my phone, but there were no new messages. I finished up, thinking I’ll give him a little more time.
But with another hour passed, I decided to ask his daughter where he was, because his phone was switched off. She said she didn’t know, he went for a walk but he hadn’t come back yet.
I wish I could say something poetic, like my body went ice cold or my heart started pounding. But the only thing that went cold was my mind. I picked up my car keys, loaded Odin in the car, and drove to Rusty’s neighbourhoud. There’s a park he likes to go sit; I passed the house, his car was still there, and headed to the park.
He was sitting on the bench, head in hands. I parked and walked over.
There was a lot of blood.
I didn’t say much. I sat with him until he finished his cigarette and then led him to the car. I brought him back to my apartment, cleaned the wounds and gave him something sweet to drink. (Yes, the medication and other practicalities were dealt with as well.)
We drove back to his parents’ house, where his daughter was visiting, to pick her up after lunch. I told him to pack a bag, as he was staying over with me and Odin tonight. We walked in; his parents were eating lunch. We got the bags and walked out. Rusty took his daughter ahead to the car, as Rusty’s father asked me what’s going on.
I told them, the truth. He is severely depressed. He cut himself. He needs help.
The response, specifically from his mother, told me everything I needed to know.
The response is the reason I’m doing what I’m doing.
She feels I’m babying him, and he needs to get up and start doing things for himself. According to her, she also “had depression and she just got on with it”.
I politely excused myself and left.
Rusty is now taking a nap, resting. He had a sandwich and some coffee. He’s even tried to crack a joke or two.
Responsibility and Care
In a previous post, I wrote about responsibility. This in an expansion on that premise.
Those who are fortunate enough to not be severely depressed and are able to function, through whatever means worked for them, have a distinct and utter responsbility to take care of those who cannot.
I will not budge from this.
I don’t care if you agree with the diagnosis or the treatment method. I don’t care what your personal philosophy about depression is. I don’t care how you “snapped out of it”. I don’t care if it makes you uncomfortable or if it’s inconvenient for you.
Is it inconvenient for you when a diabetic needs insulin? Is it uncomfortable for you when someone with hypothyroidism needs medication? Can you require a paraplegic to “snap out of” not having a leg? Or will your personal philosophy of no-nonsense enable a blind person to see? Will your disagreement with the diagnosis of a cardiac patient fix his heart problem?
No. It won’t. You won’t.
So?
Why is mental illnes – a literal physiologically diagnosable medical condition affecting the human brain – viewed as some inconvenient, attention-seeking, weakness? A chemical imbalance in the brain – I can guarantee you no-one with an actual chemical imbalance in their brain is doing it on purpose or for attention. And if you had ever suffered similar, you would know how hellish it is when the one thing you need to control your entire existence is the one thing you cannot control.
For the same reason we are intolerant of so many other things we don’t understand. Because we don’t understand it.
It is a biological, evolutionary trait to be suspicious of strange or new things. Thousands of years ago, our survival depended on being suspicious of things we didn’t understand, things that were different from us.
Newsflash. We’re not living in caves anymore. We have the entirety of human knowledge in our pockets, accessible at our fingertips, 24/7.
There is no reason for you, as a fully functional adult, to not be educating yourself about important and life-critical conditions affecting a friend or a family member. None at all.
You can drive, right? So if your mom is too old/frail/sick to drive, are you going to tell her to snap out of it, when she needs milk, and go to the store herself? Or are you going to drive?
Sadly, a vast majority of people will pass that onto someone else, because it’s inconvenient. And sure, I had very different plans for today. However, Rusty’s being alive takes precedence over literally any other plans I may have had. Do I care that my day didn’t go according to plan? Not at all. Is it uncomfortable? Sure. The couch isn’t super comfortable and I have to cook for three. Is that a reason to abandon him to the carelessness of people insisting on their ignorance? Hell no.
Do I get tired? Of course. But that’s why I practise self-care. Because you see I am fully in control of my faculties, and a lot of the work that went into being fully in control of my faculties, I did by myself, without help and support. And I am amazingly fortunate to have this. Therefore I have a duty to ensure that others who are less-fortunate, receive the help and support they need.
And do not give me that horseshit of “no one was there for me, so why do I” – that is exactly why. Because you know how hard and lonely it is! Does everyone else need to suffer, because you did?
When does that cycle end? When everyone is dead? When there are no more hearts left to break and no more children left to raise?
Are you yourself so weak that you cannot step out of the shadows of your own suffering, to extend support to another human?
In that case, this blog may not be for you. Therapy, yes, will be for you.
No, sweetheart. I went through it, so I will work to make sure others don’t.
Of course, it remains their choice if they’ll be saved. I can do everything in my power to save them, and if they choose to leap from that, there is no more that I can do. Learn to tell the difference between manipulative attention-seeking and actual desperation. Rusty isn’t looking for attention. He’s desperately trying to stay alive, in a world that is constantly grinding him back into the dirt. I don’t need him to be grateful. I just need him to be alive and healing and moving forward. I don’t care if he’s grateful because it’s not about me. It’s about his survival, his life, his future. About him continiuing to be a good man, a good father, a good friend. About him being able to share his unique gifts with the world.
What do we do?
We are all human. We all need compassion, understanding, support. I’m sure his mother would’ve benefited from some kindness in her youth. I’m sure his mother would’ve benefited from some counselling and support when she endured tragedy. And I do not believe that there was no-one who would’ve helped when she endured the tragedy, because she still has a devoted husband and two sons. Remember – if you choose not to talk, if you choose to hold onto your misery, that’s your choice. But that’s not an excuse to use your own pain as a whip to beat others for having their own pain.
Your trauma doesn’t give you the right to demean others.
So since she is upright, fully capable of running a household and in full control of her own faculties, she has the responsibility to educate herself on the symptoms and treatments for her son’s condition.
And so do you. Your partner, child, parent, family member, friend, co-worker, isn’t doing it to inconvenience you. They are struggling with a horrifying, debilitating disease. Those of us with all our limbs functioning have the responsibility to care for them, like we would care for someone literally missing a limb.
I will be sharing a lot of information on the symptoms and comorbidities of depression. Use this information to educate yourself, so that you can lift up someone flattened by this disease. Your compassion and support is desperately needed. And I will not say “in the future someone may do it for you” because we’re not doing it for reward.
We’re doing it because it’s right, because it’s just, because it must be done.
It is our duty.
Nova
#OneMoreDay
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