Seems plain to me that when a person gets so beaten down or driven mad by his own mis-steps, the world looks pretty upside down, and south-bound looks like desirable territory, taking others with you if you can. That's the ocre nature of mental illness, in my view -- you flip over from building stuff for the future to destroying things because of the past.

Some folks go there temporarily, due to loss, stress, chemical condition, and so on. Others go there chronically. Some people can be lifted out of that state with no more than a hug or a smile, and others wouldn't back out if you slapped a Bradley on their ass and pulled. They're just stuck in on the southbound side of the street. Those are the ones that seem like they aren't worth saving.

I think thereis a third class, too -- the ones whose destructiveness toward others is hidden in little needling remarks, the chronic correctors of others, the passive-aggressive under-miners and invalidators, who sweetly suggest you are worth very little, just for your own good, and end up stopping you from breathing, the secret saboteurs and artfully smiling destroyers of spirit. They don't look destructive until you trust or rely on them.

Those are the kind, IMNSHO, that when you can figure 'em out, you should move far away fast, with no forwarding address, 'cuz they produce more misery per second than gravity itself.

A