Brinn moves on — to Wal-Mart. The Independent’s schoolteacher/ diarist offers some final advice about her suicide-threatening ex.
May 18, 2006
I talked to Brinn again last night. Since I’d seen her boyfriend here at school and still hadn’t heard from her, I wanted to check in and see how she was doing. Her voice sounded positive and energetic; she had lots of news for me, not the least of which was how mad she was at her boyfriend when she finally got him on the phone. It turns out she’d called the cops herself and filed a missing person report. Cops came to her house, then went to her boyfriend’s house. Only minutes later, her boyfriend called her and Brinn, in her words, “went sick.” “I told him I hate him,” she said. “I said ‘I f**king hate you! I hate you!’ And he said, ‘Don’t say that, don’t say that.’ But Miss, I hate him!” I knew what she meant by “hate” in this moment. She doesn’t hate him; she was just so scared for him and “hate” was the only word she could get out that expressed her frustration at what he did, her fear for what it could have meant, and her love for someone she loves. She then had a big monologue about whether or not she should get back together with him so that she can help him through whatever he’s going through. I jumped in immediately saying that she needed to do what was right for her. “Therapists don’t date their patients,” I said. “You want to help him through this stuff, go ahead. But dating him just because you want to help him doesn’t do anyone any good. Feelings get all mixed up and it gets messy. Help him, but set your boundaries.” “I know you’re right, Miss.” “I know I’m right, too.” We left the conversation with her telling me about her new job at Wal-Mart. She sounded really excited to be working at a new place, away from fast food, and constantly busy. Her voice sounded so good and excited, so I felt good getting off the phone with her. Talking with Brinn reminds me of when I call my mom. I usually call her in times of crisis, crying and panicking on the phone, like Brinn did with me on Monday. My mom does her best to come up with plans, concrete plans for me to equilibrate; she uses a calm voice; she gets all the information possible; she lets me know what good things I’ve done so far. When we get off the phone, I’m usually feeling better and more able to take action. Things usually work out for the better. But I usually forget to call my mom to tell her that things are better. So, days later, she’ll call me, her voice sounding hesitant or nervous. “Are you alright, honey?” she asks. And I, having almost completely forgotten about the crisis anyway because things are alright, will chirp in “Fine! Things are great!” It drives my mom nuts. “Why can’t you call me and tell me things are okay? It’s been days and I’ve been worried about you but I didn’t want to call to make things worse!” It’s kind of an on-going joke because it happens every time. A reader recently responded to one of my columns by saying I had tapped into my “Mother Hen” instincts with Brinn. I think that reader is pretty much right. Brinn and I have a unique relationship, one that began as teacher-student and has evolved into something more like a distant parent-student. Or a mentor? (I’m not sure I know the difference.) In truth, I don’t feel like just her teacher. My emotions are too wrapped around this girl and her struggles to be limited to a “teacher”. I became my mother over the past three days, even down to the worrying in between phone conversations. I think my mom would be proud of me for talking with Brinn the way I did. But all I’d have to say to her is that I learned from the best.