My husband, whom I refer to on this forum as Husband (because I'm nothing if not creative), works in a group home for the handicapped. The people he assists run the gamut from high functioning but physically disabled, to physically ambulatory but mentally retarded. Last night, he relayed a story to me about something that happened between himself and one of the residents.

This resident, whom I will refer to as Jay, had recently gone on a week's vacation with his mother. Jay is confined to a wheelchair following an accident he had as a child, and also suffers brain damage that keeps him at just below high functioning. As is required by the organization Husband works for, a staff member had to accompany Jay and his mother and assist as needed. It did not go well. Jay had several of what is referred to as 'behaviors' (a term typically used to refer to disruptive or violent actions, temper tantrums, sulking, etc), and they had to end the vacation early. Jay later confided in Husband that he was especially disappointed in the fact the staff that went with him was now keeping their distance.

The following conversation (which was apparently a lot longer) is as relayed to me by Husband. It's not an exact transcript, but it's as close as we can come to recreating it in summary.

"I bought him all this stuff," Jay told him. "I paid for dinner, I paid for souvenirs, I let him pick which places we went...I did all this to make him my friend, and he doesn't like me."

"Jay, we're not here to be your friends," Husband gently explained. "We might become friends, but no matter what, we're your staff first. We can't set that aside. And you can offer to pay for things if you want, but no one is under any obligation to be your friend. You can't buy friendship."

At this point Jay began to cry. "But he was so mean to me! He hates me! He's a bad staff!"

"I'm sorry you felt he was mean about it, but his job is to keep you and those around you safe," Husband replied. "From what I understand, you weren't acting safely. You were making both him and your mother feel threatened and uncomfortable, as well as other people. They had to tell you to stop several times, and you wouldn't listen. You weren't in control of the situation, and that left him no choice but to end the vacation."

"But he hates me! Everybody hates me!"

"I can't speak to what he does or doesn't feel," Husband replied. "But what I can tell you is you can't decide everyone hates you based on a bad experience with one person. We're not all the same."

Switching tracks (something Jay apparently does with a finesse I can't duplicate here), Jay said, "I want him to like me again. How can I make him like me?"

"Jay, you can't force someone to feel something. Either they like you or they don't, and those feelings aren't up to you. Very often, those feelings aren't even up to them. Feelings are a reaction to a situation, and whether you like those reactions or not, they don't make a person good or bad. What matters most is what they do with those feelings. From what I understand, that staff handled the situation exactly as they were supposed to according to the rules set by the state and enforced by the agency."

Jay grew frustrated. "What's the point, then? Why even bother trying to make friends if no one cares what I do for them? If everybody is going to turn against me anyway, I should just sit in my room and be alone forever!"

"Nobody is turning against you just because they didn't react the way you wanted them to. There are a lot of people in the world, and I can't make all of them react to me the way I might want. That doesn't mean the world is against me. It means they're their own people, and they're not here just to make me happy."

"But I want friends!" Jay exclaimed. "I live in this house and nobody here likes me. I'm lonely and I want people to hang out with. But no matter what I do, nothing works. Nobody wants me around!"

"Maybe you're doing it for the wrong reasons," Husband suggested. "You chose to give that staff gifts, and pay for dinner, and take him places you thought he would want to go. You did this, not because you wanted to make him happy, but because you expected him to like you. That's not how friendship works. Friendship works when people think of others first, and themselves second. If you like them for who they are and treat them with the respect they deserve, then you wouldn't care if they didn't respond in the way you expect."

"But what if they still don't like me?"

"Then you move on and find someone else, and you try again." And then Husband flattered the hell out of me by quoting something I have said, something I've even posted in LL: "The bravest, strongest thing anyone can do is fail, and try again. The only person you can control is yourself, and that makes you strong."

At this point, Jay said he felt a little better (but not much), and withdrew into his room for the night.

As Husband was relaying this story last night before bed, I instantly recognized a very familiar track in Jay's logic train. I've seen it so many times, except coming from supposedly high functioning adults who, frankly, should know better. They try to buy affection, and when that doesn't work they blame the object of their desires. They sit in a zone they've created for themselves and sulk, lashing out at the world and bitterly deciding everyone has turned against them. They take no responsibility for their actions, preferring to play the victim so they don't have to face their failures. They refuse to see the people they target as complete human beings, believing them to be unworthy of respect, just because they've committed the oh so horrible sin of rejection.

In Jay's defense, he's mentally handicapped.

It's a shame some others can't use the same excuse.