I dreamed of him. Of catching up. And I had to process why, after 5 years, he still pulls on my heartstrings. I looked him up on Facebook, which is pointless because he's never had one. I don't either. I used my bestie's to check. I've always thought that was funny... We must be two of the last people on the planet that aren't on social media. Then I googled him, and there he was. He's in Nashville. He still job hops. He got arrested again.
I kind of wish I could talk to him, but I don't think it would be welcome. Or maybe the dream was us connecting on some deeper mental level. Maybe we shared that dream. The dreams of him are always so strangely vivid and memorable that they feel like I'm actually communicating with him.
After dreaming about Chevy, I had group. One of my clients tells us about her severe past trauma, her relationships now, and how she feels. I validated. I normalized. I didn't let her leave. I could see my words and the experience helped her. But it tore me up to see her like that. It bothers me to know how messed up the world is sometimes... I wish I could save everyone. I had to fight back tears, and my heart ached for someone so young to carry such a heavy burden her whole life.
Then I came home during my break between group and class, and the fiancé was not acting very nice to anyone... He was short-fused, impatient, negative. He was frustrated by the kids' mom and not looking forward his long day today working both jobs. We all went to the pool, and I attempted to get his mood back up. I gently probed for what was wrong. I made him get it out. I tried to cheer him up, but when that wasn't working, I moved on. I got some sun and ignored him. After a spell of continued negative comments, I turned to him and said "you're being unpleasant." I didn't engage him any more, and ten minutes later, I could see him attempting to be nicer. Before we left, he was good again. He worked it all out of his system. He apologized. But, it was hard for me to cater to him and not get angry.
It also makes me feel guilty to know that he is only getting a second job because of my continued demands. I don't want him to be unhappy, but with his current job, he is only bringing home $700-800 a month when our bills alone are $1,700, not including any fucking other spending like kid stuff, entertainment, gas, food, or the fact that we need to pay off our credit card and plan a wedding. He has never fully paid half the bills, and while I understood and was patient when I knew he was struggling in life, it's time for him to carry his weight more fully.
I honestly can't marry someone who doesn't.
So, I shrugged off my guilt, silently put my foot down, and supported him. He slept a lot and worried a lot, but followed through. I'm proud. And if he keeps with it, I'll be ecstatic.
Today, however, feels lonely.
Class last night is weighing heavily on me as well... We went over suicide assessment, and I got so flustered about my current client that I spoke to my supervisor afterward. 1 in 4 counselors experience a client suicide. That statistic repeated itself over and over in my head during class. My heart was racing. I was thinking of B and H and the things they have said the two previous days. Two clients who seem serious about their suidicidal thoughts in just as many days. Not a fun week...
Then suddenly, I was thinking about my own suicidal ideation in the past and my specific thoughts on suicide. And with that, I'm struggling. I don't want my clients killing themselves, and I understand the devastation of it. But I don't know how much I agree with the "it will always get better; don't kill yourself" mantras in our society.
I understand the appeal of suicide. I understand the allure. I have never feared death, but thought it would be a welcome moment, whenever it was destined to happen. I still feel that way. Like death would be relief. I would never hasten my own, but I get it.
It's hard for me sometimes when someone says that their life seems pointless to tell them that it's not. I think a lot of life is ultimately pointless. Most of us don't leave behind any great legacy- we don't invent or achieve anything that changes the world significantly. We impact our immediate environment, but not to any lasting degree. And the world truly is a pretty terrible place to live in. Though I believe in the afterlife, I don't believe you forfeit it by ending your own life. We spend so much energy working pointless jobs to earn pointless money to get pointless crap that someone else will throw away when we die. We spend years engaging in pointless maintenance tasks on our pointless bodies in an attempt to look or feel good when one day we just won't be healthy or pretty, no matter what we do. As soon as we die, that body that we worked so hard on, and obsessed over for so many decades, becomes meaningless. In 50 years, our own family lineage probably won't even remember our names or faces or know anything about our entire existence, much less anyone else in society. It just seems like we are born and wait to die. Saving someone's life feels like prolonging the inevitable in a way.
I sound pessimistic, but I promise I'm not. I enjoy my life. I even love it some days. And I am still guilty of obsessing over my body more than my previous statements could ever reflect.
But I also see the bigger picture. If I were to disappear one day, only a handful of people would be truly affected. The ripple would be small. I feel most people are in that category. And yes, it could be debated that maybe our role is to produce lineage that a couple generations from now does some amazing, life-altering thing. Maybe we are here to inspire someone in passing. We can never fully know the weaving of the fates.
But, logic also stings a bit. And self-hatred is a candle within myself that has never fully extinguished, so when someone else's is brightly burning, I understand.
The last two days, logic has stung me a lot... I wish the fiancé was here to soothe some of it.