I'm really not looking for any relationship advice right now - as you'll soon read, I already know the major problems in our relationship, and I know how to "solve" them. Right now, I just want to hear some ideas - ANYTHING, please - on how to help her, or things she can do to help herself, because I don't know what else to do.
I'll start at the beginning of the story, with the beginning of the relationship. It began freshman year of college after we'd had a class the previous semester. We'd talked a bit, and she shared several personal things about her past: how she'd struggled with depression since she was 15, how she'd been in several psychiatric facilities, how she had a history with self-harming, and how she'd watched someone she loved kill herself. That's not to say we only ever talked about her heavy past - most often, we just joked around. She has a fantastic way with puns that still admire. And then one day she told me that she couldn't be alone that day, so she came to my dorm room and we talked about nothing for a while until eventually, she told me she'd been raped the previous night. Having already heard about her self-harming, I told her to stay with my sister and I in our dorm, because I was too afraid to let her be on her own for any amount of time. Two weeks and a bottle of tequila later, we were dating. Looking back now, I just want to shake myself by the shoulders until past-me sees some sense. The very foundation of my and Rachel's (renamed girlfriend for anonymity) relationship was me "taking care" of her.
Anyway, about six months later, Rachel came out to me as transgender (she'd previously been identifying as male, but now identifies as female). I fully supported her transition and helped pay for hormones for a while. However, she ended up losing the last few members of her family who didn't already ostracize her for her depression. Now, two years later, her father and grandparents are still not speaking to her, and her mother and brother are not comfortable with the idea. I am the only person on this planet who fully supports her decision to be who she is.
This past June, we signed a lease for an apartment together, after quickly growing bored with the school dorms. When we signed the lease, I was under the impression that she would find a job; she never once indicated that she wouldn't be able to do so. She never once told me that she wasn't okay. It's March now, and while my financial aid (thank goodness) is enough to cover rent, I am solely responsible for paying all the bills on my minimum-wage paycheck, as well as go to school, and keep up with dishes and general cleaning.
Rachel has completely sunken in to her depression and PTSD. She has fallen so far down that she doesn't even know where "up" is anymore, much less actually see it. She has lost absolutely everything; she doesn't even have herself anymore. Her life consists of sleeping and playing Counterstrike at 3am. She doesn't even eat regularly anymore, and may or may not have developed an eating disorder as means of gaining some twisted sense of control. I made the decision to move out of the apartment when the lease is up - I have to look after myself, as horribly guilty and selfish as I feel about saying as much. I will be living in a house with a few other girls while continuing my education.
Rachel, on the other hand... Isn't. The landlord of our current apartment has already found a new (paying!) tenant to live here once I move out, so she certainly can't stay here. She can't move back in with her mother, and her father would never have considered that option for even a fraction of a second. She struggles with PTSD too much to even step outside long enough to grab the mail, and so she certainly is not capable of employment. She has no where to go. What's worse is that she doesn't care. She has given up on herself so much that she knows she is going to end up on the streets and she is doing nothing about it.
I keep trying to talk to her, to help her come up with some kind of plan, or something that will help her through this, but there just isn't anything. She's just given up; while she isn't outright suicidal (due only to fear of death, as I'm told), she has expressed that she's perfectly content to live on the streets and wait for death to come to her on its own time.
Right now, I'm trying to come up with some practical move she can make to help her. Telling her vague, big-picture things like, "You just need to find a purpose!" and "Decide to make a change in your life," are useless. Abstract bits of advice are just that: they're too abstract. I'm looking for something that she can actually act on; some small, baby step on the road to recovery that she can hold on to, and that is actually manageable for her. I suggested she try walking outside, just to grab the mail or take out the trash, but she doesn't "see the point." Does anyone else out there have any thoughts?
I'll start at the beginning of the story, with the beginning of the relationship. It began freshman year of college after we'd had a class the previous semester. We'd talked a bit, and she shared several personal things about her past: how she'd struggled with depression since she was 15, how she'd been in several psychiatric facilities, how she had a history with self-harming, and how she'd watched someone she loved kill herself. That's not to say we only ever talked about her heavy past - most often, we just joked around. She has a fantastic way with puns that still admire. And then one day she told me that she couldn't be alone that day, so she came to my dorm room and we talked about nothing for a while until eventually, she told me she'd been raped the previous night. Having already heard about her self-harming, I told her to stay with my sister and I in our dorm, because I was too afraid to let her be on her own for any amount of time. Two weeks and a bottle of tequila later, we were dating. Looking back now, I just want to shake myself by the shoulders until past-me sees some sense. The very foundation of my and Rachel's (renamed girlfriend for anonymity) relationship was me "taking care" of her.
Anyway, about six months later, Rachel came out to me as transgender (she'd previously been identifying as male, but now identifies as female). I fully supported her transition and helped pay for hormones for a while. However, she ended up losing the last few members of her family who didn't already ostracize her for her depression. Now, two years later, her father and grandparents are still not speaking to her, and her mother and brother are not comfortable with the idea. I am the only person on this planet who fully supports her decision to be who she is.
This past June, we signed a lease for an apartment together, after quickly growing bored with the school dorms. When we signed the lease, I was under the impression that she would find a job; she never once indicated that she wouldn't be able to do so. She never once told me that she wasn't okay. It's March now, and while my financial aid (thank goodness) is enough to cover rent, I am solely responsible for paying all the bills on my minimum-wage paycheck, as well as go to school, and keep up with dishes and general cleaning.
Rachel has completely sunken in to her depression and PTSD. She has fallen so far down that she doesn't even know where "up" is anymore, much less actually see it. She has lost absolutely everything; she doesn't even have herself anymore. Her life consists of sleeping and playing Counterstrike at 3am. She doesn't even eat regularly anymore, and may or may not have developed an eating disorder as means of gaining some twisted sense of control. I made the decision to move out of the apartment when the lease is up - I have to look after myself, as horribly guilty and selfish as I feel about saying as much. I will be living in a house with a few other girls while continuing my education.
Rachel, on the other hand... Isn't. The landlord of our current apartment has already found a new (paying!) tenant to live here once I move out, so she certainly can't stay here. She can't move back in with her mother, and her father would never have considered that option for even a fraction of a second. She struggles with PTSD too much to even step outside long enough to grab the mail, and so she certainly is not capable of employment. She has no where to go. What's worse is that she doesn't care. She has given up on herself so much that she knows she is going to end up on the streets and she is doing nothing about it.
I keep trying to talk to her, to help her come up with some kind of plan, or something that will help her through this, but there just isn't anything. She's just given up; while she isn't outright suicidal (due only to fear of death, as I'm told), she has expressed that she's perfectly content to live on the streets and wait for death to come to her on its own time.
Right now, I'm trying to come up with some practical move she can make to help her. Telling her vague, big-picture things like, "You just need to find a purpose!" and "Decide to make a change in your life," are useless. Abstract bits of advice are just that: they're too abstract. I'm looking for something that she can actually act on; some small, baby step on the road to recovery that she can hold on to, and that is actually manageable for her. I suggested she try walking outside, just to grab the mail or take out the trash, but she doesn't "see the point." Does anyone else out there have any thoughts?
