Why you need to focus on self-care when caring for friends in a crisis | Jack’s Story
Jack’s friend became mentally unwell and he desperately wanted to help but unfortunately, he started to burn out. Jack talks about what you can do to support a friend, and how to set healthier boundaries.
CONTENT WARNING: suicide, self-harm
Bec and I got to know each other at festivals and parties — always while high. There was a beautiful heartfelt connection that came from us both experiencing the joy and love of expressing ourselves. At that time in our lives, drugs freed us up to express ourselves as the beautiful people we inherently are. Experiencing that together made us feel quite close.
Sadly, as time went on, Bec began showing signs of mental illness. She had grown up in a war-torn country. She struggled to deal with the trauma of her childhood experiences plus cope with survivor’s guilt after she had got out when so many didn’t. She became increasingly manic and suicidal, and the only thing that seemed to calm her down was being distracted by drugs or friends - preferably together.
Because we were close and loved each other, it hurt to see her like this. I worried a lot about her killing herself. We were part of an extended group of friends who were mostly quite young. We all tried to support her but as I was the oldest at 23, I felt some sort of extra responsibility, like it was on me to see Bec through this. I really cared for her so whenever she called me — even when it happened regularly at 3am — I would go and spend time with her. If I could help ease her pain, I would.
It can be so hard to support a friend going through this kind of pain. It can be very disruptive to your life — your other friendships and relationships, your work and studies. And to be honest, I just wasn't equipped to help someone with acute mental health problems. No matter how much I wanted to help, I just didn't have the skill-set. And I wasn’t getting any support of my own, so I was carrying all her pain without knowing how to let go of it.
I ran to Bec’s side over and over. At first, I felt that being there for her was really making a difference. But after a while, I realised I wasn’t actually changing anything for her. In fact, the situation was getting much worse. She was getting even more anxious and manic. And the more time I spent with her, the more demanding she became. Helping Bec was taking up more and more of my time and it was taking a toll on me.
Part of me wanted to keep supporting her and still valued the friendship. Another part wanted to run.
For a long time, I couldn't say no to her whenever she called for my company or demanded I bring her drugs. The idea of saying no felt heartless and selfish, and it didn't fit with how I wanted to see myself. I wanted to be this super cool guy that could help and heal people. I thought saying no would make me a bad person. I also didn't want to let go of the idea that I was making a real difference, that I had the power to make her feel better.
When our other friends backed away, I became her only support. Her moods became more erratic and her demands on me became more aggressive. There was always a sense of emergency around her, along with an expectation that I put her needs before my own. She was drowning in her anxiety and depression and in her panic, she was dragging me down with her.
As the burden of caring for her became heavier and heavier, it became clear that I simply wasn't able to help her but was risking my own well-being by trying. In the end, I simply couldn't keep putting her life and mental health before mine.
It took me a long time to feel okay about it. But I began to realise how much I had expected of myself. After all, health workers spend years learning how to work with people with mental health issues. I was just a young person with no training in how to deal with these issues. I didn’t know how to put boundaries in place that would protect my own mental health. I didn't have anyone supporting me that I could talk to about what was going on.
Looking back, it's amazing that I thought that I was going to be able to make a difference in her mental health issues when I really had no idea what I was doing. It wasn't like she was just a little bit upset or anxious or just going through a bad time. Bec had a complex mental health diagnosis.
The one thing that I did do right was to encourage her to get some professional help, but I'm afraid I don't have great things to say about public mental health care support in our state. She was in and out of the psych ward all the time, but she found it very difficult to get good specialist support. And the psych ward just gave her valium!
Maybe if she could've afforded a private specialist who could work with her on an ongoing basis, things might have been different for her. But from my perspective, her regular stays in mental health facilities did little to help her.
I shouldn't blame Bec. When people are experiencing serious mental health issues including psychotic episodes and serious anxiety and depression, they aren't thinking very clearly. They're certainly not choosing to be like that. But I am also human and what had become a seriously one-sided friendship was giving me a lot of stress, taking over my life, but didn’t seem to be making her any better.
The turning point for me was when she rocked up at my girlfriend's place, completely uninvited, let herself in when no one was home, and started cutting her arms in the bathroom until someone got home. My friends had to deal with her, and it was traumatising for them. Afterwards, she called me asking me to come over and give her comfort or drugs but I was like, ‘Fuck it, I’m not going to help’.
I do know that Bec is grateful for everything that I did for her. But I’ve learnt that I can't fix people, or take away their pain, no matter how much I want to. Being a friend doesn't mean being at someone's beck and call and taking on their pain until I'm burnt out myself. I know now that putting myself first is not only okay, it is essential.
I hope that I will always be there for my friends, especially when they're going through hard times. I'm sure that Bec won't be the last person that I love who has a mental health diagnosis. But I've learnt that sometimes we need boundaries in place to keep us all safe. Because unless my life is in order and my head is straight, I'm no good to anyone, least of all myself.
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