2 min read

No good deed...

It all started with a text message from D.  A "friend" from work had a "friend" who was suicidal and could I please, please, please, please, please help.

Knowing that no good deed goes unpunished, I should have said a simple, "no".

But I didn't.  Instead I said, "I'm going to be in the car for the next two hours.  If she wants to call me, I'm a captive audience."

All right! I'm an idiot!  I admit it.  Sheez.

I sat in the parking lot of our CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) talking to this person on the telephone.  She was upset.  She was distraught.  Blah. Going to kill myself.  Blah.  Have a plan. Blah. And on and on.

I'm actually pretty good on the phone.  By the end of our conversation, she agreed to hang on for thirty days and to call me in the morning.

Easy peasy, right?

The next morning, I raced around so that I would be ready for this call.  At the designated hour, she rang, letting the phone ring twice, then hung up.  Grrrrr.

I called her back.  No answer.

I called her again.  Left a message.

Then spent the next three hours sucked into a vortex dealing with this situation.  I talked to the police.  I talked to the "friend".  I talked to Tom, Dick and Harry.


Because no good deed goes unpunished.

And now?  Who knows? I might lose my recently paid for and updated psychotherapy license.
You nice people are going to ask: Did she kill herself?

NO, I reply irritatedly.

It was all a game in order to get attention from every person in her life.  She had no intention of changing because this behavior works.  Turn on the waterworks and the world runs to attention.  It's called a personality disorder.

And if the lies she told the police go further, I'll be turning in that shiny license under the "did a good deed, go to jail" program.

I swear.  The next time someone tells me they are going to kill themselves, I'm going to say:

"Have fun.  You'll be sorry because this is the E ticket.  You'll spend an eternity trying to get back what you threw away.  At least it will leave space for someone who deserves it."

I read somewhere once that if you want sympathy, you should look in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.

Maybe I should just go ahead and turn that license in.