Self-reliance actually works
My best friend once walked up to me at a coffee shop and asked why I looked so down. When I told her my mom was going nuts again, she rolled her eyes. “Nobody likes their mom,” she said. “Get over it. So anyway, wanna grab some Chipotle?” I declined.
Don’t hate my friend. That’s not the point. She thought I was using the term “nuts” figuratively. Most people do.
At the time, I’d never told anyone about my mom’s mental health problems. So the misunderstanding was my fault. I should’ve used the more precise term, schizophrenic episode.
For a snap, part of me wanted the comfort of a friend. But the other part knew the truth. Nobody can make you feel better about something like that. You’re on your own. You have to manage your emotions.
A therapist or counselor can help. But in the end, you’ve got to own them. Only you can solve your riddles.
So I sipped my coffee and stared through a window for an hour, and then cracked open my Econ textbook. That’s exactly what I needed. Solitude. Caffeine. A painfully dull read to take my mind off things.
I’d just watched my mom escorted onto an ambulance by two police officers. I love the word “escort.” It makes everything sound so civil. People who get escorted places don’t lose a shoe in the process.
In fact, I’d literally followed the ambulance to my parents’ house from the highway. By accident. No joke. I was driving that way, when I saw an ambulance rush past me, and onto my exit.
I remember thinking, “Wouldn’t that be weird if the ambulance were driving to my house? And I was right. It felt pretty fucking weird, following a random ambulance that happens to pull up to your driveway. That made the twelfth time my mom won a trip to the mental health institution. So the weird part boils down to the timing. I’d arrived at the exact same moment as the ambulance. Weird.
Around that time, I asked another friend to let me stay with her a few days. Living at home to save money on tuition and fees hadn’t worked out the way I’d planned. It’s hard to study when your mom spends half the day screaming at your dad, and then your dad in turn spends the other half screaming at your brother.
