So I've talked a little about my current job. How much I love it, and how much I feel like I'm really make a difference in lives. Don't get me wrong, my last job taught me a lot, but the fact is that I was really burned out. I remember how I'd had a couple of bad dreams about the job at one point and how at another point, on Saturday nights, I'd feel angry and anxious about my weekend being over and having only one more day before I had to return. To be fair, things were pretty bad for me at my first site, largely because I felt like I spent my days babysitting, more than my designated job of teaching life skills.
I thoroughly enjoyed my second site at that organization, to be honest. My goal was to create a food pantry, particularly one that could be used by clients all over the organization. I also wanted to hold a voter registration drive, both of which were held up by first the pandemic, then my getting laid off. I mean, it was cool at first, I took a nice 3 week trip to Cali, paid down my credit cards, and was able to pay down my car as well.
My plan was initially to move from Atlanta, but things didn't pan out, so here, I stayed. I didn't expect to land at my current job when I applied, more so because I thought they'd feel that my experience wasn't up to snuff lol. I guess I was wrong about that.
So anyway, my job entails working with women who are drug addicted mothers, with the goal being reunification with their children. It feels so good to be involved in a position where I'm actively helping people to work on themselves.
As I move along on this journey called life, I recognize how much of my existence has been about helping others. The beautiful thing is that I now understand how much I've tried to help others. Quite often, I succeeded. Other times, not as much. The good thing about my last job is that I saw firsthand how various mental illnesses present. I'm genuinely fascinated by bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, trauma, and so many other things that impact the lives of others.
The interesting thing is that I now see the large impact of mental illness and trauma in the people in my personal life. Over the summer, a friend from high school came back around. I'll call this friend, "Sheila." (here's a reminder) This particular friend told me that she'd wanted to become a graphic artist. I'm all about linking people with others that will aid them with achieving their goals. I introduced my friend to my cousin, a highly skilled graphic artist. Slowly, things happened, and I'd joined them, and we started working toward putting together a website run by the 3 of us. I was really excited to be part of this project.
However, while things started to move forward, something happened with her. She was fearful. She'd introduced me to a relative of hers who allowed me to get my first eye exam and 2 pairs of prescription glasses pretty cheap. My eyes aren't too bad, but occasionally, I have trouble focusing my eyes, so this deal worked well for me. Sheila clearly has eye sight far worse than mine (evidenced by her massive squinting whenever reading). Homegirl straight up refused to get her eyes checked. I couldn't make sense of it. Girl, get your damned eyes checked! If you can't see, get some damned glasses! She refused.
Another issue Sheila had was her attachment to a rapper she'd fooled with about 20 years ago. Dude has since moved on an publicly announced his wife/gf/fiancé. We aren't exactly sure about her particular role, all we know is that he has continued to publicly announce his love and devotion to this woman. So anyway, baby girl is STILL all over dude. She's refusing to date, calling him her "twin flame," "soul mate," or whatever titles they call people we don't wanna let go of.
I'd started to really observe that her issues were deeper than I'd previously seen. I also noticed that every time she came to my home, she went straight for the huge tequila bottle that someone had given me for my birthday. She needed like actual therapy, which I'd let her know. She gave me some about pathetic excuse of not having insurance, but I told her that my previous job actually takes clients without insurance. She gave me more crap excuses. I'd forgotten that she'd proven to be a flake in our early 20's, but I figured that by our early 40's, she have moved past all of that. She hadn't.
First she started missing our weekly meetings. And then, as my cousin and Sheila and I started to move closer to our live date for the site, she started with the bullshit. She started to stall and suggest pushing back the live date. I talked privately to my cousin and told him that I wasn't with the shits and I knew she was about to flake. After about 2 weeks of radio silence from her, she basically told us that she wanted out (which my cuz and I had already suspected was about to happen).
I'll be honest, old Malika would have tried to talk to her, to convince her to get help. I'm pretty sure that she had an anxiety disorder, which is easily treated with CBT, and possibly some meds. She refused. Old Malika would have tried to save her. To perhaps hold an intervention. But Malika now just doesn't have it in me. I got a job. I got a child. I have real life work and professional experience. It's literally my job to help people with their struggles. I almost wish I'd been able to be more sympathetic. But I've seen her patterns for 20+ years of friendship. I don't have the additional energy for a friend who doesn't want to put forth the additional work to fix her own issues. I just can't support that. I wish her well. But when she sent me a text message, telling me that she's working through her "healing process" I just looked at it. I wish I'd had it in me to respond positively and being supportive. But I couldn't. It was more bullshit. She'd done literally the same bullshit for 20 years. I looked at the text message and chose to say nothing. Because if I'd said anything, I possibly would have done more damage than anything. So I silently wished her the best and put my phone back down.
Whew, I'm exhausted just writing all of that. So anyway, next up. I'll call her Alice. I'd worked with Alice some years ago. She had a horrible boyfriend, who was abusive to her. She'd sometimes come to work with bruises on her. To make her issues worse, her 12-year-old son had died of cancer. Unsurprisingly, she'd had a lot of issues, as anyone would after the loss of a child. But I'd later learned that she'd had other issues prior to his death.
She was the product of rape, as her mother often threw into her face. She told me how growing up, as he darkest person in her family, she was often referred to as a "black bitch." While we worked together, I was often the only person to plainly tell her that her loser boyfriend wasn't good enough for her and to lose him. She held firm.
I eventually left that job and we'd lost contact. One day, she and I started chatting again, and she admitted to me that he was still in the picture. I tearfully told her that if she stayed with him, he'd kill her one day. I even had her in my home as she called various family members to leave Atlanta to escape him. I encouraged her to pretty much leave with the clothes on her back. She gave me reasons that she couldn't. I should be honest and call them excuses. She did not leave Atlanta. At least, not at the time. Another issue she'd had was her roommate, whom I'd felt was way too close to her ex (not in a sexual way though). Basically, the roommate had allowed him to continue to stay there, despite his history of attacking Alice. But Alice remained firm that her roommate was a "good friend."
A few years later, I started chatting with Alice again. At this point, she'd finally left Atlanta (YAY!) and the abusive slimeball (DOUBLE YAY!!!) She was a semi-truck driver. She and I would often talk for hours as she drove up and down the West Coast. At some point, she'd planned to fly out a guy from Atlanta (not the slimy ex), but he had a family emergency and was unable to attend. I was hoping to come out instead, but the airline would not allow her to change her reservation. So although her guy friend wasn't able to make it out, her roommate that kept her shitty ex around came instead.
Alice told me afterward how her former roommate essentially showed her ass the whole time, ruining the trip. Honestly, after what she'd said, I truly feel that the roommate may have a mental health diagnosis. Unsurprisingly, she'd told me that at some point, the roommate's family had actually had her hospitalized for mental health (as they should). I warned Alice to separate herself from the roommate. She assured me after that trip, she would.
A couple of weeks later, Alice lost her job abruptly. I figured, what the hell, I'd let her crash with me for a few days until she landed on her feet. She slept a lot the first few days, which was fine, I figured she was decompressing and needed to rest for a few. A couple of days later, she went to stay with the roommate. Naturally, I was suspect on it, but I'll be honest, I was glad to have my living room back. Anyway, she essentially stayed with the former roommate and only came to pick up her stuff from my house a few days later. I'd had several conversations with her about the roommate and how she was clearly shit show, but I figured that she knew what she was doing, and I decided simply "not my monkey, not my circus."
A day or so later, after she'd picked up her belongings, I got a phone call from Alice at 3am. The roommate had gotten angry with her over something and put her out in the middle of the night. The good was that she'd been let out in my neighborhood so that she could safely come to my home. The bad was that I'd reached my breaking point. The fact is that I don't have people in my life who put me out of the car, on the other side of town from where I'm staying, in the middle of the night. I shouldn't have to wake up at 3a.m. to pick someone up, all because of whomever she opted to hang out with. And I knew that mess was just the tip of the iceberg when dealing with the roomie. When Alice returned to my home, I told her point blank that she absolutely cannot stay at my home if she continues to be friends with the former roommate. The toxicity of this woman would eventually become my problem and I simply was not going to allow that. She agreed that she needed to remove herself from the situation and stated that being booted from the car at 3am was the final straw.
By this point, our communication had fallen drastically. It was difficult to communicate with her at times. Perhaps it was knowing about her past the way that I did and my therapeutic nature, but we talked about her deceased son sometimes, and other times, the abusive ex came up. Sometimes she talked about her mother, who had been diagnosed with a mental illness. She talked about the lack of affection she felt from her father, and she also talked about her recently deceased sister. She drank a lot. I got it. I felt bad for her. She carried a lot of pain. And I wanted so badly to fix her.
A few days later, Alice asked for a ride to the train station. I obliged. She was a bit secretive when sharing where she was going. She eventually relented and told me she was planning to hang out with a guy, which was odd that she was hesitant to share, because our dating stories about men had be beyond vulgar. She didn't return that night. I was worried, but she eventually called. She'd stayed away more nights. Again, I was glad to have my couch back, but I hoped she was well. She never returned to stay in my home. She moved her stuff out while I wasn't home one day.
A month or so later, I saw a picture on Facebook of her in a nightclub with the toxic roommate. I unfollowed her. I couldn't bear to watch her bad decisions anymore.
I could easily take my laptop and put together a treatment plan and outline goals for her. But she isn't a client. She's a personal friend. And more than anything, it isn't my job to fix a woman that doesn't really want my help. With my training, I can now identify that Alice has issues with substance abuse and codependency, which often unfortunately go hand in hand. She was clinging to these toxic people and behavior, because that was all she knew and she didn't want to be alone. And all I can do is pray for her well being from afar.
So as I get ready to go into the new year, I'm armed with new knowledge of trauma, substance abuse, mental illness, and poor coping skills. And old Malika wanted more than anything to save the world. I really adore talking to people and them having that "come-to-Jesus" moment where they accept their own role in their issues and start to make better decisions. I get to talk to women 5 days a week and help them be their best versions of themselves. I'd do this for free, I love it so much.
But I gotta be honest y'all. I'm tired. I've spent my life saving siblings, friends, romantic partners, even total strangers, and I'm fucking exhausted. I wish Alice and Sheila well. And if either of them call me at this exact moment and tell me that they're really ready to really tackle their issues, and not just drink them away, I'd be there with bells on, to guide them to a professional, who is paid to help these women. Because I know now that it is not my responsibility to save everyone around me. And I'm learning to be okay with that.
