So, Paul has gone from suicidal to being completely content with life in the psych ward. I expressed some concern about this, encouraged him to think about life outside. He was concerned about “ingredients.”
Me: Ingredients?
Him: Yeah, ingredients for life.
Me: What do you mean?
Him: You know, everything that you need to make life worth living: a fast car, a girlfriend, a nice apartment, a job, clubs and parties to go to. It would be great to be out, if I had the ingredients.
Sigh.
Of course, it’s tempting to say what you would say to most people, here in the land of the American dream: “Well, get out there and work hard, make something of yourself, and get the ingredients and assemble the life that you want.” It’s not so easy with Paul. Here’s a man who wants to work, but can’t manage to keep showing up, even when he has a job. His mind just won’t let him. He hears voices, sees things that aren’t there. I wonder if I could do half as well as Paul does under those circumstances. I wonder if any of us could.
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