I've put a past friendship on indefinite hold. I have attempted to be a reasonably steady friend to someone who suffers from depression, mental instability, and now an ever increasing array of physical problems. My effort was partly motivated by a common past relationship and some understanding of the environment that shaped his life. He did have a few insights that clarified a few things that had puzzled me previously. And his mind, though now shot through with burned out circuits fried by chronic emotional overload, shows remnants of both significant intelligence and knowledge. I suppose it is those remnants that seemed signs of hope for something better than before.
Perhaps my tenacity was an attempt on my own part to help, though it hasn't had any significant impact. I have benefited from the effort. I have come to see even more clearly that mental illness both causes and ferociously perpetuates its own misery. It's analogous to an addict or alcoholic who insists the world he creates by his addiction is a real one because it is real to them. It is propped up by endless rationalization about how everyone else is messed up, by adamant denial about their problems, and by determined ignorance about the impact it has on others. At the bottom of it, there isn't much help for addicts, until and unless, for some reason, they make a commitment to face the wreckage of their life and their complicity in the carnage. That's a tough thing to do, and few at the point of addiction have the courage or remaining energy to do so. They become truly lost souls, not because of any innate lostness, but because their now ingrained mental and emotional habits make it unlikely they will ever seek or use the door out of their misery.
When I finally faced the fact that the friend's problems were sourced in mental problems beyond the reach of me or others, I stopped trying to help. I can feel sorrow about the misery he suffers, without being moved to "help" him. The key to his change lies within him, not me, not something I can bring to bear.
I used to be annoyed by the ranting during moments of instability, by the disregard of facts, and by the refusal to even consider, for an instant, that his memories might be flawed or false. Conflicting logic or statements were routinely tossed aside. His loathing (verbal and explicit) of the God he swears loyalty to -- out of fear, I suppose -- dooms any hope that his claimed religion will foster love, forgiveness, or tolerance. He despises and ridicules the people he claims to be compassionately serving in a foreign country -- along with everyone else who materially disagrees with him. I had sometimes listened to the hatred of life spewed forth by the pressure of pain, thinking that perhaps if it vented, there would be at least a temporary opportunity for healing. Not so. There was never any real opening for anything that did not agree with the hostile view of the world he insists on maintaining. The words -- even the harsh ones -- are impotent -- the ravings of misery rather than the rational judgment of another that should be given due respect and consideration -- even if one disagrees with them. The words generally have little sting. Even the written emails to others I've been copied on, though sometimes filled with exaggerated vituperation, are mostly too childish to be harmful.
I was attempting to provide some material and logistical support for the person who lives in a foreign country. I stopped doing so, because I came to the point where it seemed obvious I was helping the other person live in a false, imaginary world. The person wants to live in a world where behavior doesn't count, where he will be loved and admired unconditionally despite his dysfunction and attacks on others. The world doesn't work that way. People may not retaliate when attacked, but they are not obligated to suffer it repeatedly, particularly when it is unprovoked and has no possible benefit. Most will simply discontinue contact either as a self-protective measure or because they have more wholesome, beneficial things to do with their time and energy. The person in this case has understandably become quite isolated, and now suffers extreme loneliness where his associates are almost entirely limited to those whom he can hire, even as a family of sorts.
The other aspect I came to see clearly is that a fundamental key to recovery is realization that behavior counts. The socially harmful behavior of a mentally ill person should not be indulged just because of sympathy for the misery that prompts it. That just perpetuates a the sufferer's belief that harmful behavior should be and will be excused because he is suffering. It seems to me, until one realizes that there must be serious effort to control behavior, there will be no investment of energy to change it. My temporary indulgence is perhaps, one of the mistakes I made.
I do find that this change in friendship status has not meant a lack of either feeling or even some understanding for the person involved. There is a lot of pain and suffering there, though its obvious to me that much of it is self-inflicted -- routinely and brutally. There is an immense amount of suffering in the world. I can't remedy most of it. I do often wince when I realize its extent and scope. But, even if I had huge resources to invest, the causes of much of it are quite beyond amelioration by application of time, money, teaching, or even love. That's one of the re-learned lessons here. Suffering is. Some of it can be fixed. Some can't. I wish to have enough wisdom to know the difference so that what I do won't be wasted and that somehow I won't further what exists.
The former friend and I did both see that suffering. To him it confirmed everything negative he wanted to believe about himself and the world. It sanctified hatred of life as superior insight and righteous anger. We all will experience injury at the hands of life. We will all suffer death. Life is what it is. But it seems maximum ingratitude and arrogance to despise it, hate it, and throw it to the trash heap because it does not conform to what we had imagined or hoped for.
There is an unconditionality to true compassion. That's what most religions aim at as a goal. But friendship is more a relationship rather a feeling of sympathy or understanding. And right now, I cannot see a way for this relationship to be constructive or healthy. So it's on hold. Perhaps it will be viable again at some point in the future. Perhaps not. I doubt it will ever be stable. If at some point, I see some means of truly extending help, I will. But for the time being, it seems best to just shelve things -- perhaps to collect a bit of dust. Sometimes dust is a good thing.
I would be remiss if I left this note without also acknowledging that what I've recounted here is not a whole, entire picture. The very nature of instability means that negative things sometimes give way to positive moments (almost wildly positive at times). There were periods of relative sanity, rationality, experienced wisdom, and even something in the neighborhood of affection -- maybe even a snippet of happiness slipped in unnoticed at times. An analogy might be the erratic behavior of an alcoholic who repeatedly raves and beats at night when drunk, and then returns to the temporary normalcy of sobriety. Who is the "real" person? The answer is probably "both." That's the destructive and confusing nature of instability. Constant upheaval of soil means plants can't take root and grow. Healthy friendships can't grow in instability either.
I wish this former friend well. That's not altruism, but an honest sentiment. I truly would like for him to find peace of mind and heart, though I think he probably won't.
P.S. As I re-read this article, I wanted to add a thought that is at least particular to the person involved. I think, based on several remarks over the years, that the fundamental emotion of daily existence is fear -- sometimes almost terror -- and that the apparent arrogance and hatred are simply drone chords of that string of anxiety being plucked. That perspective helps a bit to cope with the expression of hostility that manifests itself sometimes. The arrogance, bravado, and aggressive hatred serve as a a shield that masks -- at least temporarily -- the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability that hides beneath. Fear is painful. It is even more painful to be aware of being incapacitated by it.