Happiness is a Choice

'Piling On' is Illegal!

There's no reason to murder someone who is already committing suicide.

One of our presidents said that, or something like that, but for the life of me, I can't remember which one or exactly how he said it.  Anyway, that phrase popped into my mind during a recent lunch conversation with a friend. 

She asked me about a mutual acquaintance.

"How's Judy?"

I found myself more than eager to share what I thought were Judy's misdeeds and shortcomings.

"Well, as they say: same ole, same ole."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know: she can't get to work on time, or she calls in sick.  She can't make the family functions, and she always seems disengaged from what's going on around her."

"That's distressing.  Do you think ..."

"That's not all.  I think she's having an affair with some guy where she works.  He works in the Supply Department.  Well, he's 'supplying' her with something!"

We got a big laugh out of that.  As we continued to gossip and disparage Judy, another co-worker stopped at our table.

"Is this seat taken?"

"No, sit down."

"Was that Judy you were talking about?"

"Yes.  On top of everything else, I hear that teenage son of hers is running amok.  Judy can't even find time to show up at a teacher's conference, much less attend one of his ballgames.  That kid's going to get into the wrong crowd if someone doesn't do something soon.  Apparently Judy cares more about Judy than she does about parenting her kid."

My lunch partner added to the character assassination.  "I saw her last night, leaving The Club.  She was disheveled and seemed lost.  I think she is on something, and all she ever does is complain."

The new arrival seemed less eager to add fuel to our fire.  "Judy had such potential.  She seems to have gotten into a downward spiral from which she cannot escape.  My heart goes out to her.  It's almost as if she's committing suicide in the longest, most painful manner."

The conversation continued, but I didn't add much to it after that.  Like a light coming on, Why murder suicide victims? spoke the Still Small Voice in my brain.  I felt a little uneasy and soon excused myself from the conversation and the table.  As soon as I returned to the office, I called Judy.

"Hey, girl, how's it going?"

Her response was the usual life's-out-to-get-me diatribe that is too often a complete turn-off to me.  My side of the conversation consisted of the opening sentence and a series of 'uh-huhs.'  At no point did she share one positive comment about her welfare, her family, her job, nor did she inquire about mine.  I wish I could say I was magnanimous, helpful, supportive, any of a dozen kind things, but I wasn't.  Sometimes, I can do those things, and sometimes I cannot.  On that day, my response was to get off the phone as quickly as possible.   

I sat there for several minutes feeling guilty for my lack of ability to reach out and equally annoyed at knowing Judy would not have been receptive.  Right then, it seemed to me that Judy was bent on throwing her life away, and I was not qualified to help her.  I haven't changed my mind.  Still, I'm not sure that rids me of the burden of trying.  As I mulled over that situation, I thought about the lunchtime conversation.

Despite deciding to give myself a 'bye' on my lack of intervention attempt, I still had that gnawing in my chest.  Of course, it could have been something I ate, but I'm inclined to believe it was something I did.  To 'pile on' when the victim is already going down is wrong.  I'm not obliged to assist in her self-destruction, even if I'm unable to offer a hand up.  I may have contributed in far reaching ways to Judy's early demise.  There is no way of knowing to whom my friends may repeat my words.  My remarks could reach Judy's boss, her son or Judy herself, and my not-so-innocent gossip could be the source of unnecessary pain.  Like a stone dropped in a lake, the ripples of my words may reach a distant shore. 

Okay, so maybe I'm getting a little overly dramatic, but my point is: when asked about Judy's welfare, all I needed to say was that she was doing okay as far as I knew.  That brings me to another quote I like and heard often from my mother: If you can't say something nice, then just be quiet. 

I will -- next time!