a safe place to kill oneself

We are fortunate that we both work in non-profit, with human suffering. If only because when one of us is wounded, the other can very much understand why it hurts.

A long time client of J's died while we were out of the country. He learned of her death this week and has been deeply saddened. It's not often I see him like this - he sees a lot in the course of his work, and generally is able to reconcile his role in it, but sometimes, it's too much.

And sometimes it should be. A came to J's place years ago with a long and horrible history of sexual abuse, psychiatric disorders and anorexia. It was the latter, no doubt fueled by the former, that finally killed her.

Months ago we sat outside on our porch and debated the treatment decision J needed to make. A was in and out of his facility and others for a number of years. It had become increasingly evident that all of her dependence on the system itself was hurting more than it was helping. They ended up making the difficult decision of denying services to A, and J was to be the one to tell her. I remember him telling me that he would do this, that he knew she was going to die one day, that their decision might facilitate that, and his team struggled long and hard with it and still knew it was the only therapeutic decision that could be made. I am summarizing a lot of conversations - the situation/decision was much more complicated and full of history than I can do justice here. Suffice to say it was a long and winding road.

He sat with her one last time and explained why they had made the decision they had, and typical of J, tried yet again to reach her on a deeper level. He told me he said A, let's cut the bullshit. From one soul to another, from someone who cares for you very much, you have to believe all we are giving you is a safe place to kill yourself. And that is not enough. If there is anything I can do, it would be to make you believe that this world is a beautiful place, that you have so much left to see, to feel, to do, that life is so much more than how you are living it. That you can choose something different.

A listened. She made the decision to check herself into residential treatment the next day, and she never left. She made terrific strides in the past few months, gained some weight, seemed to be improving. But it was already too late. A heart can only take so much.

I asked J last night if he feels responsible for her death. He said he didn't, and I almost believe him. Because while I know he wasn't responsible, I also know how hard these decisions are and how hard it is to watch someone's path unfold, even if you saw it coming.

The problem is we are still idealistic enough to believe that we can help people. And when we don't, it's hard not to wear that around our hearts.

I can't believe it's almost time for our third Just Post Roundtable. If you have a post of yours or one you've appreciated that was written by someone else, please send them my way (to girlplustwo (at) yahoo(dot) com) by March 8th and I'll send you the button. Go on. It's good for the soul.

We'll link all posts and anyone who refers one (or more) in our Just Post Roundtable on the 10th. If this is new to you, please feel free to check it out here.