Friends I was able to turn to are no longer. Those who knew me best. Those who were close during my Living Room years. Those who were like father and mother, giving comfort when I needed. All are gone.

A lot was my fault. I became too much for them. Later, I myself was no longer able to trust.

And today?

I have learned about boundaries. Haven’t developed deep relationships like I once had – not those to whom I would reveal the real me. The needy child in me.

I have friends I can call and spend time with. I have one like a sister, a dear. But I no longer have someone I can talk to like a mother. No one who knows me that well. No one who cares about my pain as a mother might care about her daughter’s pain. No one who carries the godly love she had.

My Safety Plan requires names of those I should call when things get rough. People who know me well. People I feel comfortable reaching out to. I used to have such friends. But they’re in my past.

Today I can only count on my pastor for the kind of compassion I need. A man of God. A man with God’s love in him. He’s a dear person and knows me well.

But a pastor is not one I should call too often. He has many in his fold.

I remember past mistakes far too well and am afraid.

And so, I call the Crisis Line.