Turn-Back Time

I sat down this morning with the intention of finally writing publicly about my crumbling marriage, but was forced to change direction when I opened my computer to the news that a friend and classmate had died.  I don't have the details.  However, there were some posts that suggested his demise may have been self-inflicted - if not intentionally, then perhaps through carelessness...such things can never be known with certainty.

I reflected, gauged my feelings, replayed our most recent interactions.  Death is somehow creepier in a time when eternal life looms large on the Internet.  Photographs have always held the magic of  capturing time and place, but the Internet preserves conversations over years in one tidy, review-able location.  It also preserves cries for help.  Indeed, the Internet itself is my primary source of  mental assistance, but this morning, I could not find a resource to help put words to the complicated emotions I am experiencing.

A few years ago, when I was candidly sharing my struggles with alcoholism and alcoholics, my friend "reached out" to me.  I put that phrase in quotes, because it needs to be set aside for further consideration.  It is a phrase that is bandied about, perhaps carelessly.  The Internet is full of advice on when and how to reach out - and what to do when someone reaches out to you.  But I couldn't quite find any answers to my most burning question - what if someone reaches out to you and you are not able to help?

In the face of epic failure, it is difficult to hold onto the conclusion that you did the best you could, difficult to not ask if you could have done more - especially if you did nothing...or very little...or feel like you did...

The most useful essay I could find discussed the importance of helping yourself before you can help someone else.  This resonated with me because I am deeply immersed in a lot of heavy problems and my focus, particularly this last year, has been on helping myself - helping myself heal, helping myself grow, and helping myself create a future.  I do this by learning and practicing skills that allow me to cope with the challenges in my life. It takes nearly all of my time and energy, which makes it easy to support the argument for not making someone else a priority.  The hypothesis of needing to be strong to lift others up lessens the guilt of inadequacy.

But what if helping yourself means pulling away when someone reaches out?

What if self-preservation means completely turning your back?


...what if I am writing about my crumbling marriage after all?

R.I.P Keith

What were you trying to tell us all with this picture??