David McElroy

I saw her issues so gradually that I was in love with her before I realized something was seriously wrong.

The first time I saw one of her mild breakdowns just made me feel empathy for her. She was out of town on business when she called me one evening crying. Something had triggered some feelings from when she was in middle school. All of a sudden, she was back in that old state of mind when she doubted herself and felt that nobody loved her or understood her.

We talked for hours and I thought it was a good experience for us. Something had triggered a crisis for her and I’d been there for her. I didn’t realize it was the start of a long spiral downward for her.

She would go weeks as a brilliant, confident and successful woman — then suddenly seem to fall off a cliff into an emotional abyss. Her behavior was erratic enough by the time we went to an out-of-town film festival together that I told her she needed to get therapy or else we had no future together.

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I enjoy being alone. There are plenty of times when silence is my friend and other humans around me feel like an intrusion.

But there are times — such as right now for me — when I feel lonely enough that the silence is deafening and the empty space around me feels like a dark and dangerous pit into which I could fall.

There are people I could be with tonight. I could join groups in public. I could spend time with other people in private. But there’s nothing available to me that can put a dent into this terrible emptiness. And that’s hard to explain to others.

There are at least three kinds of loneliness — and I’m not certain which one applies to me tonight. I don’t know whether I can be honest with myself. Or with you.

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For the last 10 days, I’ve been struggling to collect about a thousand dollars from a woman for my company. It shouldn’t be that big a deal, but she won’t communicate clearly with me about it.

I’d like to help her work out a solution for whatever’s going on — because I genuinely like her — but she dodges my phone calls and won’t call me back. Some days, she’ll text me a reply. She’ll promise something but when she doesn’t do that — let’s assume she really can’t — she doesn’t call me to explain. I have to pick bits and pieces out of her.

I’ve been left to wonder what’s really going on. How much of what she’s telling me is the truth? I don’t know. I can tell that she’s scared and freaking out about something she can’t control — and that fear and shame have led her to alienate me. And I’m the only one who can help her right now.

Maybe I’ve thought about this so clearly this week because I’ve been thinking about how people damage lots of their relationships by not being clear and honest about their thoughts and feelings. And it makes me realize that we destroy our personal relationships — romantic, friendship and otherwise — because we refuse to be direct and honest.

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