Mr. Fix-It

Man, it is hard to fight against the way we are at times. I’ve talked a lot about Calla here, and about how much she means to me, and so it is hard to watch when she’s going through tough times. So, being me, I want to try and help, to fix things, to make her feel better. But I also find myself wondering if that is really the way to go.

I’m a guy, and I imagine most guys will admit that seeing a woman crying, basically any woman, is hard to see – we, at least in my experience, want to help, to try and fix things to make the crying stop. (I dunno if the same is true of women seeing men cry; I’ve always found watching guys cry just very awkward.) But I wonder if that impulse here is the right one. I wonder if, in my well-intentioned trying to fix things, if I’m not actually making things worse.

One of the biggest positives to my time at Menninger was in getting to know my fellow patients (or peers, as we’re told to call them while we’re there). Some people I only knew for very short periods of time, and that often wasn’t enough to really get to know them. But others, even after just a couple weeks (which is an absurdly short period of time for me), are people who I still talk to, seriously, on a regular basis. My contacts list on my phone has tripled since arriving at Menninger. The relationships I formed there have helped to get me where I am today.

I wonder if I am doing Calla any favors by remaining close by, always ready to visit if she wants me to. Maybe the safety of that relationship keeps her from forming others among her peers. While I can’t deny that there is some appeal in being such an important figure in her life, I don’t think it helps anyone if our relationship keeps her from forming new ones. I want to be there for her, but I also don’t want to impede her treatment.

It’s hard to watch her go through such a tough time. After watching her descend from a relatively good mood earlier today into what seemed to be relatively deep depression, after leaving I was just a mess of fear, anger, and sadness; it took me a couple of hours, some loud music, and hitting things repeatedly to get me back in a pretty normal state of mind. I’m not really sure what to do, whether I am helping her or hurting her, and that not knowing is really messing with my head. So, how do I fix this situation I got into by wanting to fix things? Is that too recursive?

On a more mundane note, my forays into cooking over the last few days have been stuponfucious (that is too a word, Penny Arcade says so and they’re never wrong about words they created). I made mashed cauliflower and broccoli and Stilton soup, and they were both awesome (though the soup was less soup than puree, but still super tasty).

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