January Air

I survived another birthday! It was looking like I might actually have a happy birthday about a week prior, and I was allowing myself to enjoy January for the first time in my double-digit life. I had plans to go snowboarding and stay at my friend's cabin with a group of people, including Spongebob. I expected him to cancel after he lost his job, so it meant a lot that he was willing to drop a few bucks to celebrate my birthday with me.

And then the clouds rolled in. Literally. The Weather Channel said so. Rain was expected for the weekend so I decided I wouldn't go up to the cabin. But then my friend was upset because her parents did not rent out the cabin this weekend specifically so we could go there for my birthday. I felt bad so I said I would go, despite feeling very anxious about driving in that weather. I planned on packing the night before and leaving work early the next day. If only the weather was the worst of my problems.

My client attempted suicide during our session. It was a chaotic scene involving pills, yelling, crying, vomiting, sirens, and way too many professionals for me to keep track of. I spent some time with her in the hospital afterward, and she was completely fine. But something so chaotic can never be that simple. The aftermath didn't start till the next morning, the day I was leaving for the cabin. There were more professionals to talk to and everything had to be documented. The mother started calling supervisors at my agency, saying I triggered the suicide attempt and was trying to put the girl in a residential/inpatient setting. I started to get what will surely be only the beginning of questioning. I left work later than I had planned, and it was then that I left the numb "did this really just happen?" state I had been in. I started to cry, and then sob. I started to think about the possible consequences, like being fired or sued or having this on my record. I started to think about death, and life, and the people I love, and my own suicidal thoughts. If life were really beautiful, then I would have saved a life. But life is difficult and unfair, and this is what the reality of the situation is turning out to be: Something about my presence led a girl to attempt to kill herself. The fact that she is alive doesn't matter; we have rescuers, doctors, and fate to thank for that. And this isn't MY reality, but it's the reality that matters, the one that determines my fate. When it's me against a parent, the community's opinion of the agency is what matters. Things have never settled in my favor, and in this case we're dealing with life and death. I really don't know how I'm going to handle this, but I also don't know where to go with my career instead.

When Spongebob showed up, I was still in tears and there was no stopping them. Although I could tell he felt awkward, he handled it beautifully. Over the course of the weekend, I was able to explain that not only was it traumatic to witness a suicide attempt, but I was also worried that this could be the end of my career. It's possible that I could be sued, fired, unlicensable, and unhireable in this field, worst case scenario. I really wanted him to know that I'm not always a basket case (even if it's not the truth). I'm not going to be able to hide it forever, so I guess it's better that he see it now so we can both avoid a time wasted.

I decided to have a birthday do-over the next day since I was so miserable and stressed on the day of. Spongebob and the friends were really cute and supportive of it. We drank all day, which led to this conversation in bed between an obliterated me and pretty damn sober Spongebob:
Me: "We should be friends forever. Please don't fade me out. We can go back to how it used to be, where we would randomly text and see each other. It doesn't have to be awkward."
Spongebob: "Stop. Stop talking about that."
I laid there quietly and thought about how despite my efforts to be happy this winter, here I was again having another sad January. I thought about my grandma and how much I miss her and wondered if it's really a blessing that her birth, death, the new year, and my birthday all come in January. If these things were spread out, I'd be thinking about the anniversary of shitty things all year long. It's best that I can just get it all out of the way and get on with my year. But HOW will I handle losing Spongebob? I was too drunk to imagine it. I fumbled around in the bathroom for awhile and then went back to bed. "I hope you at least had fun this weekend," he said...his voice sounded sad and sorry. "Yeahmmffh," I snuggled up to him and he squeezed me. "I like you a lot," I whispered. "I like you, too."

The next day we were back to normal. But I can't help thinking that I'm such a terrible, fucked up, inconvenience to him. Part of me wants to push away just so he can have a better chance at happiness, but part of me hopes that deep down he's just as fucked up as me so he might stay with me.