I got a difficult phone call recently.
It started as a voice mail from a friend. It was about another friend of ours who I’ll call Pete. (Not his real name.) And frankly, when I heard it was about Pete, I initially decided not to respond.
Pete struggles with alcohol abuse. I didn’t feel like interrupting a good weekend to deal with his problems. Then my friend called back, so I decided to pick up. I was waiting for him to tell me one of three things:
- Pete was in jail.
- Pete was in the hospital.
- Pete was dead.
I wasn’t wishing these fates on Pete – quite the contrary – those were what passed through my mind when I got this call. What my friend actually told me was, to me, even crazier: Pete had started using heroin.
Have you ever realized that you had entered a place you’d never been, nor ever expected to be, and had no idea what to do? That was me from that moment to this moment. I have no idea what to do. This blog post is an attempt to process this experience. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so completely at a loss for action.
My friend was on his way to Pete’s place to help him figure out what to do next. I’m glad I’m not there. I’d be useless and dumbfounded.
I keep reading this post trying to think of more to say. I hate the way I sound in this post, both selfish and useless. At some level, I am being selfish. I want to help, but I also need to live my own life. I think I’m setting boundaries, but maybe I’m just giving up.