This is what happened this summer.

August 5, 2006 at 6:26 AM

Now that it’s over, I suppose I can begin.

Seven years ago, God put a special place in my heart for an 11-year-old girl named Brittney. We met here at camp during the most depressed point in my life, just as things were beginning to change for the better. She’d recently lost her mother to breast cancer, and was up from California for the summer, visiting relatives and working at our summer camp’s barn with me. It was an unlikely situation, a 24-year-old finding herself befriended by someone so young. I cannot say what drew me to her, or what compelled her to seek me through the following years. Except, it seemed we’d been cut from the same hunk of clay.

She left Alaska, and during the next few years she would call periodically from California, as though begging for a scolding for her impulsive and foolish behavior: first eating disorders, then boys, then alcohol, then drugs. One night, she called frightened because she had mixed the wrong drugs and was having a bad trip. At that point, I began to make plans to get her out of her situation. On May 22nd, she wound up on a flight to Anchorage so she could work with me in the kitchen for the summer. I hoped it would work. At the very least, I could buy her some time.

At first, I believed that I could somehow be strong enough to fight for her. If I could just explain it just right, if I could give a convincing speech, if I could pour out enough love and time into her, she would grow strong and healthy. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who believed this. Friends from all over came to visit and showered her with gifts and flowers and phone calls.

When she felt weak, I would stay up and listen and talk, or just hold her quiet so she wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night. Perhaps I could change her mind. Perhaps I could make her laugh with my silliness, or perhaps I could distract her just long enough to stay another day. We listened to Clair de Lune and played silly duets on the piano. We turned the radio up loud and drove for miles, and climbed the high peaks and laughed about pixie sticks and imaginary bears. We talked about pain and God and truth and freedom. And when I could think of nothing else to say, I played the violin as she cried on the floor in the dark. I loved her.

For a while, I believed her, too. I felt I had no choice but to trust her, and she felt she had no choice but to lie in order to protect her vice. The day she confessed she’d been on speed the entire previous week, I was completely dumbfounded. I don’t think I’ve ever been betrayed like that before. What do you do once someone has proven to be a liar? How can you ever believe another word they utter? What kind of relationship can you have with a fictional character? From that point onward, I watched the bond we’d shared slowly disintegrate.

People told me that you can’t change someone who is not yet ready to change, and Brittney was not ready to change. Says who? I thought to myself, and I continued to try, though the forces that work against good were larger than I thought. Old contacts in California had bought her a plane ticket home, and every time I talked her out of using it, she held it over my head, postponed until the next impulse arose. I stopped trying to convince her to stay and told her if she chose to leave, the door was open. But if she walked away, I wanted no further contact from her until she had been sober for one year; she could not have both drugs and a relationship with me. I think that ultimatum may have glued her feet down at least a couple of times, but after five of her attempts, I knew that the departure was inevitable. No amount of my tears would change her heart.

Though the entire summer has been rainy and cool, with only five days of sunshine since it began, this week’s cold, breezy drizzle marked the close of the season, and the fireweed blossoms began to work their way up the stalks. Last night, as I drove to town with Brittney for a soda, I asked her about her latest contact, a former-camp-counselor-turned-heroine-dealer living in Girdwood. He’d taken her out earlier, and I suspected his intentions were not good. As usual, she casually explained it away, and again I wanted to believe her. I wanted to so much, that I actually did. Even so, I offered her my couch for the evening, inviting her to watch a movie, enticing her with freshly washed blankets to block out the dreary damp. “Don’t go with him,” I urged. She paused as she stepped out of the car. “I can handle myself.”

The next morning, when Brittney didn’t show up for work, I went up to her room to see. A bag of garbage. A pile of bedding. A selection of my borrowed belongings scattered on the bed. A bouquet of roses, a card, and a pastel mug on the dresser, all from various friends, all addressed to Brittney. She was gone.

I’m not her savior. I don’t claim to be. I can’t be. She wants none of that, anyway. She is angry, and she is in love with her addiction, and for now she’s hoping that it will save her.

And now I will sleep a long slumber, and try to forget how good she had it, and how she threw it back at me and ran away anyway.

Brittney, if you happen to read this, you know that my couch is always open, and you know the conditions. You also know I love you unconditionally.

30 Days Sober

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 9:19 AM

The two of you look so cute having your ice cream together, but it was a fantasy, Emily. She is a strong, attractive, charismatic, and very controlling person. You are one of many people who have fallen prey to her. I know you don't want to hear this Emily, but I advise you to let go. Maybe you can save someone else.

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 9:42 AM

Another thought: Your story reminds me very much, in many ways, of Henry James's "The Turn of the Screw." I, too, have played the role that you and the governess have.

From Neil Cameron
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 10:24 AM

Many, many truths in that story Emily. Well done for trying, well done for recognizing the realities and well done for writing about it so brilliantly.

Neil

From Colleen Russo
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 12:02 PM

I think you're doing the right thing, let her know you're there, but now she has to come to you... you can't beat yourself up over it...
But how amazing.... you have such a big heart!

From Eileen Geriak
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 1:46 PM

Emily...Bless you for trying...but in the end, the decisions are her's. God Himself doesn't force anyone to make right decsions...He points the way, offeres encouragement, provides needs..etc...Just like you did for her Emily.......but when it comes right down to it...the individual makes the choice.
One day, if/when she comes to her senses she may remember your kindness and seek a better way. Until then, you can always lift her up in prayer and give her over to the Lord....no better hands can she be in ! ;)

From Sheila Ganapathy
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 1:49 PM

It's funny b/c I recently found myself in the same situation with a friend. I realized the other day that I could not deal with his mood swings, attacks and put downs just b/c he was on drugs and he has used me all this time and used to tell me he was not doing drugs and then would still be doing it and seriously, it is not worth being "friends" with him b/c I offer him so much and I get nothing in return...not that friendship is an exchange. I think you are doing right with offering to help her especially since she is younger than you.

Sheila

From Jenna Potts
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 6:34 PM

I'm proud of you, Emily. And I grieve with your pain. May God's power and grace be abundantly evident, whether we understand it or not.

From Karin Lin
Posted on August 5, 2006 at 8:31 PM

Emily, I'm so glad to hear that you know what you can't do. I'm not religious, but the Serenity Prayer seems particularly apt..."and the wisdom to know the difference". You have a heart of gold, I hope one day Brittney will recognize all you did for her.

From Sydney Menees
Posted on August 6, 2006 at 4:12 AM

That is so kind of you, Emily. I believe that one day she WILL realize what a great friend you are :-)

From Bernard Wong
Posted on August 7, 2006 at 3:25 AM

Emily, its so wonderful to hear your story. People like you re-enforce my faith that there are still true greatness in the human race. Its such a shame that there are so many poeple really in need & will benefit from the love & kindness that you have offered, but your effort in this case kind of gone wasted. And I also felt bad that good people like youself being taken advantage of, & there is just not enough people to look after the good people like you. I wish you well & thank you for being there.

From Emily Grossman
Posted on August 7, 2006 at 10:20 AM

Okay now, don't be too hasty setting up that pedestal, there.

Brittney actually inspired me to give up my own addiction, three months ago today. And every day is still a battle. I'm thankful for the fact that she made me want to be strong enough.

Everyone's chock full of flaws. Everyone. And anyone can help someone else. It's not hard.

Thank you all for the comforting encouragement.

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on August 8, 2006 at 6:56 AM

...your addiction?

A couple of times I have tried to rescue someone I loved very intensely. Each time, I was nearly destroyed in the process. If I had not tried, I could not have lived with myself. However, I now set some limits for myself. If I go under, there is no one who would rescue me.

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This is what happened this summer.

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