Reading Wombat's blog about her psychopathic coworker reminded me of my undeniable attraction to the mentally and emotionally ill. I swear I'm like the bug zapper of the challenged. Of course I don't "light 'em up" but I do draw them in.
The first time it happened that I can remember was in 1st grade. I barely remember it, and perhaps this kid wasn't diagnosable but he wasn't exactly the sharpest crayon in the box either. D was a very nice kid. Amiable and all, but not quite the same as the rest of us. He never had the answers in class and he tagged along like my shadow on the playground. At first I didn't know what to do. Even then I was very tolerant of those who have less. The last straw for me was when he got us into trouble for talking, and I wasn't the one doing the talking. I told him to never talk to me again or I'd punch him in the nose. It didn't matter that I was lying.
Throughout the rest of school I routinely ended up being lab partners, team members, sitting next to, being hit on by and generally associated with every socially awkward classmate. If there was a dork, dweeb, nerd, or otherwise undesireable person in any class I took, I was somehow cosmically attached to them. I really wanted to be popular in high school, but that's not even a possibility when your "crowd" consist of the people who probably wore safety helmets to sleep in as children. *sigh*
In college I was finally able to mostly rid myself of these emotionally needy and draining people. I wasn't the most popular girl on campus, but at least I was seen in the company of "cool" people now and then. I thought the worst was behind me.
After I married and had my kids I worked for a couple of years as a locksmith. Most of the time my job was construction and residential work. I did a little automotive and generally enjoyed my work. Memories of being the center of the "not normal" crowd were fading. Then, one day, I took a job at the hospital. Apparently one of their mentally ill patients had damaged the lock on the smoking room door. I was told to check in with the front desk on that ward. As I stepped off the elevator and up to the plexiglass encased desk the volume in the ward began to rise. I didn't think much of it until I was buzzed in, but warned to not make eye contact with the residents. They had locked down the hallway I was in because many of my tools were potential weapons. It was only about 20-30 steps long, but with each step the patients increased the volume of screams, calls, cat calls and shrieks until I reached the room I was working in. The staff was more than busy trying to regain order. I did my work quickly and got out.
I was shaken, but eventually was able to file it away as weird coincidence. Three years later while working as a clerk in the ER it started happening again. As a matter of policy all patients being admitted to the mental health ward needed to be checked in through the ER so that we could screen them for any threatening physical conditions. During my stay there as clerk every mental health patient and a few brought in on police holds acted up during admission. I had people scream at me, throw things at me, spit at me, you name it. It nearly convinced me to quit.
Now, I enjoy a much milder amount of attraction to these troubled souls. I get bag ladies and homeless bums approaching me. Social misfits (like my neighbor Dude!) are very talkative with me. Even the occaisional pervert feels happy to leave it at an obscene gesture and no contact. Maybe my energy is finally starting to wane. I don't know.
I used to think I was cursed, but maybe it was all just karma.
