deborahjross | Bailing out when times get tough

Elsewhere, a friend who is wrestling with some very hard stuff made a reference to a relationship that became a casualty of said hard stuff. I recently had a chance to meet some other family members of murder victims (more about that when I'm ready to write about it) and one of the questions that came up was whether a significant other (spouse/lover/bestfriend) had been supportive. The question unleashed a flood of response. This is something we don't talk about much, how the people we count on sometimes walk out on us. It happened to me. I wasn't dealing with life-threatening illness, but I went absolutely nuts after the first parole hearing of the man who killed my mother. I ended up having to rebuild my life alone. It took me a long time to let go of feelings of anger and abandonment.

We as a culture have this image that it's noble and wonderful to stand by a loved one who's struggling with hard stuff. Although we don't say it aloud, the implication is that loyalty is a measure of love.

It isn't.

I've come to understand that the people who walk out, don't do so because they don't love us or they're weak or they haven't tried hard enough. They do love us and they hang in there as long as they can. The bottom line, though, is that no matter how empathetic they are, no matter how many books they read on whatever we are facing or how many counseling sessions we attend together, they are not living our lives. We all come to a place where we run out of emotional and physical resources, where we just can't see our way through, where there's nothing left to give and the darkness, the pain, the fear are unrelenting. We all crumble under such oppressive weight. The difference is that they can crawl back into "normal life" and we can't.

I believe that the ones who love us and leave us wish beyond words that they could take us with them.

Something breaks in us both, but they get to put their lives back together without our agony and we don't. But we can do it, anyway. The miracle is that even when they give up on us (or so it seems) and we give up on ourselves, something remains, something tenacious and faithful. Maybe it's a part of ourselves that we can experience only in extremis. Maybe it's something beyond or outside ourselves. Maybe it's a moment of kindness from an unexpected source.

It is the seed not only of survival and growth but of forgiveness. It is a whisper of hope for us all.

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That's both very wise and very forgiving. Thank you.

Hugs across the ocean.

Human hearts are extraordinarily complicated.

So are relationships.

So are breakups.

I agree.

What I can see is that in a time when family units have almost totally splintered, it's harder to be there for someone... Because you are there for someone who has no one else, and because you don't have support, either.

And this is beautiful beyond words, can I metaquote part of it? Not the part that references your personal experience.

Edited 2011-09-26 16:29 (UTC)

Please do metaquote. I wish I'd known about this 25 years ago, 15 years ago... Feel free to point people here and to my blog; I made this Public to read the widest possible audience.

Yeah.

Sigh.

I tried to hang on to one particular relationship like a lifeline, as if it could save me. I don't know that I could have let go by an act of will, but I do know that I made the situation much worse by holding on. I had no idea how to move on, but I ended up getting a lot of help from friends, even some people I never expected to step up to the plate.

Beautifully said, yet painful to read.

I hope that's empathy-pain rather than digging-up-memories, triggering pain.

You're a lovely person. Your greatness of heart and soul move me.

Gosh, thanks. We all have that capacity and need to figure out how to nurture it in ourselves and others.

In slow stages, I'm coming to see that I've learned a lot in the last 25 years since my mother was killed, stuff that might help other people as well.

Here via Metaquotes, and I just wanted to say thank you so much for posting this. It sounds like you have arrived at a very wise, loving place.

We as a society do seem to have "whatever it takes" expectations about helping our loved ones, and sometimes that's just not realistic. But because no one ever talks about it, the person who is "left" often feels abandoned and angry (as you noted) while the person who "leaves" often feels guilty, helpless, and inadequate. I know I did.

We get so many admonitions that create and intensify unrealistic -- and inhuman -- expectations of ourselves. When we pour all our energies into a vain attempt to "measure up," we also cut ourselves off from what would help us to walk through difficult times with compassion. kindness, and understanding.

There are no "bad guys" here - we are all human beings, frail and magnificent.

That was a lovely sentiment.

Thank you.

Well said.

This post generated quite a bit of controversy over at metaquotes. Some saw it as an absolution of guilt for people who might abandon their friends in a time of need.

That's not how I took it; it seemed to offer hope and compassion to the abandoned, and urge them to have compassion to their abandoners.

You understood perfectly the spirit in which it was offered.

The thing about blaming those who can't hang in there is that if they could, they would. There may be instances in which a relationship that already had problems ends "because" of a crisis, of course. Usually, though, the support people hang in there far longer than is healthy for them and then have to wrestle with their own guilt. They don't need blame and recriminations on top of that.

Sometimes people walk away (or crawl, bleeding and on fire, away) and then come back. Sometimes it works. Sometimes, the relationship is damaged past repair. We who are not part of it owe it to both parties to stay out of it and let them work things out, or not, on their own.

I tweeted this, because I found it wise and illuminating.

People in pain, people going through a crisis that doesn’t end, see -- very rightly -- their own pain. They privilege it because they can’t help but do so. But it’s very blinding; they see what they need, what they fear, what they can’t move past...

And they fail to see what their partners/friends fear or need; they barely have the mental energy to deal with their own lives at that point; they don’t have the energy to deal with their loved ones. But...their loved ones can only set aside their own lives and needs and hopes for so long.

I don’t know if you’ve read Sugar, on the The Rumpus, but one of her columns touches on this in an entirely different way: http://therumpus.net/2010/07/dear-sugar-the-rumpus-advice-column-44-how-you-get-unstuck/

The only case in which I feel it’s almost impossible to make good, healthy choices for oneself in a separation involve children, especially young children. And yet, the difficulties are often exactly the same as the difficulties faced by a partner.

"Caregiver fatigue" comes in many forms. When we set aside our own needs for those of someone we care for, we tend to lose perspective and balance. That is, we deprive ourselves of the tools to make good decisions, the things that allow us to be present for our loved one.

Yes, children change the equation. My experience was that caring for mine was an incredible gift that kept me engaged with life. It was helpful to enlarge the circle of resources for them to include other caring adults so that when I couldn't get myself together, I could make sure someone else was there for them. Fortunately, that time didn't last long.

Here from metaquotes.

Thank you for this. Thank you.

You're very welcome. I'm glad my words spoke to you.

Thank you for writing this, I found it through metaquotes during a very painful conversation with a friend who is reaching that point in her relationship- and we cried together about it. It's very true, and I will keep that in my mind, and in my heart for the rest of my life.

From a survivor a lot of things that shouldn't have happened to someone my age (I'm 23) during my childhood,

Thank you.

You're so very welcome. And I'm so sorry for your friend's anguish and for all the things you have suffered and survived. May your experiences become a source of compassion and understanding for yourself and for others.

Bailing out when times get tough

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From metaquotes

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