I’m sitting here minding my own business when my buddy walks in, gloomy, saying he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t go back over there—she’s so vicious and mean. This is the same good friend I’ve mentioned before, the one who suffers with mental illness. And so does her now ex-boyfriend.
I call her, and immediately she accuses me of working with my ex-girlfriend to control her mind and her boyfriend’s mind. It’s a disturbing conversation with a flat, non-emotional tone. I won’t make a diagnosis, but the reader can decide for themselves what that sounds like.
I hang up and talk to the other gentleman. He’s got similar symptoms, though they manifest differently. In reality, I’d like to see them separated. It would be better for both—they each need help in different ways. She could never get help because her guardian, even though she’s a middle-aged woman, stands in the way. She doesn’t believe in doctors; she believes in prayer. But prayer hasn’t worked very well.
They’re both my friends. I love them both. I became friends with them before I knew—before they began to decline into mental illness. Now they’re walking all over Jacksonville. One is homeless. The other survives only because a parent takes care of her, but the illness is out of control.
Prayers don’t change it. Pretending to believe the nonsense they’re saying doesn’t change it. Only medical help—and the willingness to stand by them and get that medical help—will change it. And it’s not the government’s responsibility. It’s yours. It’s your neighbors’. If you want to get them help, then help them.
And so that’s where we stand this morning: the beauty of chaos, interrupting a quiet day. #HelpingAFriendWithMentalIllness #CaringForAFriendWithMentalIllness
#SupportingFriendsWithMentalHealthChallenges
