I have a close friend who is spiraling out of control. She’s using different substances all at the same time, causing major health problems. She has lost the will to care, and in some senses, to live.
Hopefully I’m the only one here. I hope that no one is clicking on this article for information because I pray that no one has had to go through this, and that everyone is happy and okay and eating cakes filled with rainbows and smiles. But alas, I fear that is not the case.
This spiral in which I speak can take on many forms. Attitude. Substance. Recklessness. Those are just a few. Or, in most cases, a mixture of them all. All symptoms of a spiral are linked. The signs are unmistakable. They distance themselves from others, lash out in anger, stop putting effort toward their appearance, and worst of all, they stop caring about what happens to them.
Beginning with one is sure to lead to the rest. It can start as something as simple as partying, a once in awhile occurrence. Trying something out for the sake of fun or impressing a group of friends. A good portion of today’s generation seems in love with the idea of bonding over a high. No matter the drug, it creates a form of assurance that you’re accepted.
Seeing someone fall deeper and deeper into the black hole they’ve thrown themselves in is heartbreaking. I find myself fearful more than anything. Fearful that she will take things too far one day. She will overestimate what she can handle, and find herself unable to recover. And worst of all, I’m fearful that she will be alone.
The worst part is, no one knows what to do.
We’re not her mom. Or her parole officer. Or anyone that has real authority. We’re just worried friends that can give their advice and opinion on their lifestyle.
Fighting, physically or verbally, will lead to them casting you out for good. I’ve tried the firm hand approach, telling her that what she’s doing could kill her. I’ve tried to softly speak to her, telling her that I don’t want anything to happen to her. Every attempt I’ve made came to the same result: denial. No matter the tactic, they just see you as a threat to their good time. Then you’re no help at all.
I’ve looked for an answer. A solution. The best way to help. Or any way at all. But I keep coming across the same response. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. And of course, I have to come to accept that. I can’t help them unless they take action themselves. I’m not with them all the time, holding their hand. And I can’t be, as much as I cry at night wishing I could.
So the most I can do is be there to support her. Try to guide her. Hold her hand when she lets me. Pray for her. Have her parent’s number on speed dial. Call the ambulance when needed. And hope. Hope that something I tell her will get through to her.
So if you’re like me, a friend that lost on the sidelines, hold tight. You’re in for a wild ride. But don’t give up. We all see the person we love beneath the struggling form before us. And we all know, the fight is worth it.
