There's only so much breakdown assistance you can give before you start wearing a yellow jacket and sticking a flashing siren on your car roof.

You'll be the one breaking down if you spend your life fixing people who are always in upheaval. Some cars, and some people, just have to be traded in.

You might think that's harsh, but broken-down people who don't see your needs are notoriously difficult to get rid of. Someone needs to tell you what I learned in my late 30s: some people don't want to know how you are. Some people thrive on their own dramas. You don't have a main role because they don't engage in dialogue. No, you're a bit part, or worse, you don't even get to go on stage.

You're in the pit, giving them their lines and they're taking the applause. No one applauds the prompter. No one gives the prompter a curtain call. They're left with the script and empty floorboards to sweep. The lead is in a taxi on the way to an opening-night party, taking all the credit for what you fed them, but not asking you along.

It's hard to write this. For a long time I was in breakdown assistance. My phone rang constantly with people and problems. Then I wouldn't hear from them once they were fixed. When my own problems consumed me, I would leave messages for them, but they were at their opening nights or someone else's who hadn't wiped their tears and watched them blow their noses. One sleep-deprived day I snapped at my own toddler because I had spent too long consoling a friend on woes smaller than mine.

A few weeks later I saw her car parked around the corner from my house. I waited for my bell to ring, and it did -- I realised she wasn't coming to see me. I was her foul-weather friend, someone to call on when storms raged to send out a lifeboat.

A year later I got a small little voice on my message service. "Hi, I'm in a bad way. Can we speak?" I'm not a bitch so I called. I'm not a doormat so I gave her 20 minutes then said the children needed me. They needed me not to be on the phone to her for more than an hour and come off distracted with a red ear. They needed me not to over extend myself for people who had no concept of others.

She called back a few times, but the unpaid counsellor had retired. It wasn't in her interests to call again. I think my P45 is somewhere in the post.

The people in my lifeboat today are people who will let me in theirs when I'm drowning. The people in my lifeboat today love me in my pain and in my joy. The lifeboat leaks and we all bail out, not just me. I am so lucky. My phone rings with reciprocal friends.

Now it's a breeze. A nice cool one.

The centre-stage people have another prompter, who's looking to get out of the wings. If that's you, see you at the audition. We deserve applause too.

- Suzanne Power