Trying to do the best I can.

I’m puzzled. By mentally ill people. Many of them addicts. To alcohol and other drugs. Mostly, I steer clear of them. Acting as if it’s not my business. Furthermore, I wouldn’t know how to intervene. Effectively. That’s the case with my friend Julie. I know it’s going to be a long haul. For Julie to recover. And there’s a chance she’ll never make it. Because there’s no sure-fire treatment for Julie’s many and deep mental disorders. I’d like to put Julie away. Into a sanitarium. For as long as it takes. To protect Julie from herself.  From addictions. From her depression. But I’m told that’s impractical. Or that there are no such facilities. That at best, Julie will be treated on a hit-and-miss basis. And besides, Julie must be willing and able to respond to treatment. That’s more unlikely than likely. Yes, that’s the way it is. That’s life. All too often. The mentally ill are left to fend for themselves. Yes, it seems heartless. But that’s the way the system works. In a heartless and ineffective manner. And here I am. Sitting on my hands. Musing. Musing about what to do next. Perhaps feeling as helpless as Julie. But I have a choice. I can throw up my hands. And retreat. Trying to do the best I can. With my own life. --Jim Broede