March 2024
1-16
A Memoir
A testament to the past.
A moment frozen in the flow of life.
A testament to the past.
A moment frozen in the flow of life.
ONE WORD AT A TIME!
The Big Days
1 March 2024
Over the past few weeks, I’ve received a variety of caring yet misguided words and advice:
“We’ll park our trailer anywhere you like so you can live in it instead of being homeless.”
“What’s the lowest-level job you're willing to accept? I don't want to send you inappropriate leads.”
“Why don’t you just skip your rent payment? They can’t evict you for a month.”
“Have you considered declaring bankruptcy?”
“Do you want me to get you into social housing?” Two days later the person who asked, told me he hates where he lives, it depresses the hell out of him, and he wants to end it all. And besides, the government told me the waiting list is several years.
“Maybe you could lie about your age when job hunting? You don’t look your age.”
I was rejected for a job to be a clipboard person, you know, "Hey, can I ask you a quick question?"
“I know it upsets you when I offer my trailer. I do it because I care. I’m not judging you. I can’t understand why you don’t take any ‘job’ or go back to ‘school’ instead of facing homelessness.”
“Why can’t J find a better job to cover the costs?”
After confessing my disdain for clichés, someone sent me, “Don’t give up; every cloud has a silver lining.”
Some of the people who supposedly cared, when I expressed my disdain for clichés, stopped talking to me altogether - I guess their caring was only when it suited them.
I was even sent an empathetic song lyric and a link to the tune, declaring that I’m part of some metaphorical club. When I didn’t engage, this friend expressed concern to someone else (not me, so, I became gossip), who suggested I reach out to the tune sending friend, to appease the friend’s worries.
When I bravely contacted my estranged family after thirty years, a well-meaning friend downplayed the effort, suggesting how my family might feel instead of how hard this was on me.
And it continued... silver linings.
Each piece of ‘advice’ felt like a push off the ledge of a cliff.
. . . . .
Yet, amidst the turmoil, I found kindness.
Strangers praised my writing talent and honesty.
A friend reached out during her partner’s emergency surgery.
Another shared their battle with depression.
And another stated, “When I listen to you talking. It makes me realize how great of a person you are,” and then added, “and it hurts me how people treat you.”
All of these make me want to keep going, because some people get me, and trust me enough to share their experiences with me. I feel incredibly lucky.
. . . . .
Still, the inappropriate advice persists: “Why won’t you take my trailer?”
“Why not default on rent?”
Here’s why: Surrender is not an option for me.
Moving into that trailer seems a step closer to undeniable homelessness (a gateway)—a source of distress. But I understand that your care is conditional on my acceptance of your views of my suffering, and judgement of me not jumping up and down and thanking you for your kindness.
When you can’t grasp someone’s torment, haven’t walked their journey, and aren’t like them—sometimes silence is best. Just offer your care. Hold back on suggestions until you can truly empathize with their plight.
This week, my physical collapse mirrored my emotional state; my heart seemed to stop, and I collapsed. There’ll be no school for me, and should a job interview arise, don’t think I’m unaware of the interviewer’s hidden scrutiny of my age: 63.65479452...—a reminder of the limited years in my prospective career. The clipboard interviewer called me old.
If you are incapable of caring without passing judgment, then you should remain silent.
A true friend would support my creativity, yet it seems that strangers are more encouraging than most friends . Why is that?
Hell, when with a group of friends whilst in, the eye of my life storm, I announced I was trying to find humour in things, and a friend had the audacity, fully aware of how much I’m hurting right now, he had the audacity to say, “Don’t bother, you are not funny.”
And to my other friends: don’t defend those who claim they’re trying to help when they’re not by applauding their lazy words masked as caring. Their words don’t offer solutions; they inflict more pain.
I don’t need your advice. You aren’t me, so please stop dictating your would(s) and wouldn'ts as if you could fathom my predicament—a situation I hope you never have to endure. Caring begins with the simple act of listening. If you genuinely cared, you’d probe with questions to understand, not hastily provide a roof after an absence spanning eons. Genuine empathy requires learning who I am now, not proposing impractical solutions that inflict further distress. Stop co-opting my pain to serve your narrative.
I can assure you with virtually absolute certainty that if you were to experience what I am experiencing now, you’d realize why so many well-meaning suggestions can inadvertently cause more harm than good. These often trigger dormant pains buried in my subconscious—pains that may be incomprehensible to you, since my life is not your own.
How can anyone other than the person and their immediate loved ones truly understand the anguish of being unexpectedly laid off at 60? Or the fear of facing an uncertain future at 64?
Can a thirty-year-old empathize? A forty-year-old? How about retirees with secure pensions or those buoyed by family support?
While they may not be able to provide concrete assistance, their well-meaning yet unsought advice sometimes feels judgmental. Even if offered with good intentions, such counsel adds to the burden of those who already feel overwhelmed. It forces them to defend their situation, unintentionally shifting the focus to the perspectives of others and causing them to step gingerly for fear any show of less than full appreciation might lead to further losses. This leaves them beleaguered, restricted, and even more isolated than ever.
I won’t make desperate choices like moving into a trailer or skipping out on rent.
Neither am I going to slice into a metaphorical pie searching for a silver lining. The over 700 rejections have left their mark, making it agonizingly clear there is no work for me.
This week, I did break down. It felt like my heart skipped a beat and I collapsed to the ground, which is alarming—I don’t have time for that because someone sent me another lead to a menial job, and another person sent me a music video.
I share my writings because I believe it’s crucial for everyone to be aware of the way we communicate with one another. In a world where everyone is tired, a display of genuine kindness and efforts to understand one another can significantly contribute to creating a more compassionate world.
Consider it thoroughly before extending an offer of kindness, such as a place to stay.
. . . . .
If you live far away, consider the implications: how would the person manage to uproot their entire life and start anew?
The fear of becoming more isolated and frightened and with fewer options could be overwhelming. Moreover, you must consider the feasibility and duration of your offer. If you haven't been in touch with the person for a long time, your well-meaning gesture might exacerbate their situation. You are unfamiliar with their current circumstances, the individuals in their lives, and the complexity of your proposal. Your offer, though generous, might feel stifling to them. In their eyes, it could be seen as dismissive and demeaning, potentially triggering a negative response.
Even without conditions, such an offer could inadvertently pressure someone already in distress to forsake their current life and relationships for an ideal seemingly beyond reach. While you perceive it as an act of generosity, the recipient—grappling with pain—may interpret it as a further indication that hope is dwindling.
Several people have helped, though I suspect they haven't considered how their well-meaning gestures might undermine my sense of self and leave me feeling obligated to justify my situation. It's exhausting and making me feel less.
Their offers included a trailer for me to live in, suggestions to relocate to a non-tropical island “I don’t understand your reluctance to move away from what’s obviously not working” (I care. I’m not judging), another country, or even a different province. If you read these words and they upset, you...
For those eager to help, there are indeed ways to do so. Admittedly, it's uncomfortable to mention, but financial contributions—though challenging to talk about in hard times—can be a form of support. Asking someone to upend their life even more than it already has been, you may as well grab a hammer and nails. Just saying.
Alternatively, uplifting my creative endeavours would also be deeply appreciated. I have a vision for my future, but time seems slipping away. I worry that accepting a soul-sapping, non-existent, menial job now would be like voluntarily walking off a cliff.
Lastly, as part of my creative projects, you can support me by ordering a pair of custom-designed sneakers for $399.00.
Place your order today, and you can expect delivery by 2027.
In parting, our 13-year-old cat is ill, I'm worried, but I can't do a thing about it. When I shared this with a friend, my friend said, "Why don't you just put her down?" I kid you not.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve received a variety of caring yet misguided words and advice:
“We’ll park our trailer anywhere you like so you can live in it instead of being homeless.”
“What’s the lowest-level job you're willing to accept? I don't want to send you inappropriate leads.”
“Why don’t you just skip your rent payment? They can’t evict you for a month.”
“Have you considered declaring bankruptcy?”
“Do you want me to get you into social housing?” Two days later the person who asked, told me he hates where he lives, it depresses the hell out of him, and he wants to end it all. And besides, the government told me the waiting list is several years.
“Maybe you could lie about your age when job hunting? You don’t look your age.”
I was rejected for a job to be a clipboard person, you know, "Hey, can I ask you a quick question?"
“I know it upsets you when I offer my trailer. I do it because I care. I’m not judging you. I can’t understand why you don’t take any ‘job’ or go back to ‘school’ instead of facing homelessness.”
“Why can’t J find a better job to cover the costs?”
After confessing my disdain for clichés, someone sent me, “Don’t give up; every cloud has a silver lining.”
Some of the people who supposedly cared, when I expressed my disdain for clichés, stopped talking to me altogether - I guess their caring was only when it suited them.
I was even sent an empathetic song lyric and a link to the tune, declaring that I’m part of some metaphorical club. When I didn’t engage, this friend expressed concern to someone else (not me, so, I became gossip), who suggested I reach out to the tune sending friend, to appease the friend’s worries.
When I bravely contacted my estranged family after thirty years, a well-meaning friend downplayed the effort, suggesting how my family might feel instead of how hard this was on me.
And it continued... silver linings.
Each piece of ‘advice’ felt like a push off the ledge of a cliff.
. . . . .
Yet, amidst the turmoil, I found kindness.
Strangers praised my writing talent and honesty.
A friend reached out during her partner’s emergency surgery.
Another shared their battle with depression.
And another stated, “When I listen to you talking. It makes me realize how great of a person you are,” and then added, “and it hurts me how people treat you.”
All of these make me want to keep going, because some people get me, and trust me enough to share their experiences with me. I feel incredibly lucky.
. . . . .
Still, the inappropriate advice persists: “Why won’t you take my trailer?”
“Why not default on rent?”
Here’s why: Surrender is not an option for me.
Moving into that trailer seems a step closer to undeniable homelessness (a gateway)—a source of distress. But I understand that your care is conditional on my acceptance of your views of my suffering, and judgement of me not jumping up and down and thanking you for your kindness.
When you can’t grasp someone’s torment, haven’t walked their journey, and aren’t like them—sometimes silence is best. Just offer your care. Hold back on suggestions until you can truly empathize with their plight.
This week, my physical collapse mirrored my emotional state; my heart seemed to stop, and I collapsed. There’ll be no school for me, and should a job interview arise, don’t think I’m unaware of the interviewer’s hidden scrutiny of my age: 63.65479452...—a reminder of the limited years in my prospective career. The clipboard interviewer called me old.
If you are incapable of caring without passing judgment, then you should remain silent.
A true friend would support my creativity, yet it seems that strangers are more encouraging than most friends . Why is that?
Hell, when with a group of friends whilst in, the eye of my life storm, I announced I was trying to find humour in things, and a friend had the audacity, fully aware of how much I’m hurting right now, he had the audacity to say, “Don’t bother, you are not funny.”
And to my other friends: don’t defend those who claim they’re trying to help when they’re not by applauding their lazy words masked as caring. Their words don’t offer solutions; they inflict more pain.
I don’t need your advice. You aren’t me, so please stop dictating your would(s) and wouldn'ts as if you could fathom my predicament—a situation I hope you never have to endure. Caring begins with the simple act of listening. If you genuinely cared, you’d probe with questions to understand, not hastily provide a roof after an absence spanning eons. Genuine empathy requires learning who I am now, not proposing impractical solutions that inflict further distress. Stop co-opting my pain to serve your narrative.
I can assure you with virtually absolute certainty that if you were to experience what I am experiencing now, you’d realize why so many well-meaning suggestions can inadvertently cause more harm than good. These often trigger dormant pains buried in my subconscious—pains that may be incomprehensible to you, since my life is not your own.
How can anyone other than the person and their immediate loved ones truly understand the anguish of being unexpectedly laid off at 60? Or the fear of facing an uncertain future at 64?
Can a thirty-year-old empathize? A forty-year-old? How about retirees with secure pensions or those buoyed by family support?
While they may not be able to provide concrete assistance, their well-meaning yet unsought advice sometimes feels judgmental. Even if offered with good intentions, such counsel adds to the burden of those who already feel overwhelmed. It forces them to defend their situation, unintentionally shifting the focus to the perspectives of others and causing them to step gingerly for fear any show of less than full appreciation might lead to further losses. This leaves them beleaguered, restricted, and even more isolated than ever.
I won’t make desperate choices like moving into a trailer or skipping out on rent.
Neither am I going to slice into a metaphorical pie searching for a silver lining. The over 700 rejections have left their mark, making it agonizingly clear there is no work for me.
This week, I did break down. It felt like my heart skipped a beat and I collapsed to the ground, which is alarming—I don’t have time for that because someone sent me another lead to a menial job, and another person sent me a music video.
I share my writings because I believe it’s crucial for everyone to be aware of the way we communicate with one another. In a world where everyone is tired, a display of genuine kindness and efforts to understand one another can significantly contribute to creating a more compassionate world.
Consider it thoroughly before extending an offer of kindness, such as a place to stay.
. . . . .
If you live far away, consider the implications: how would the person manage to uproot their entire life and start anew?
The fear of becoming more isolated and frightened and with fewer options could be overwhelming. Moreover, you must consider the feasibility and duration of your offer. If you haven't been in touch with the person for a long time, your well-meaning gesture might exacerbate their situation. You are unfamiliar with their current circumstances, the individuals in their lives, and the complexity of your proposal. Your offer, though generous, might feel stifling to them. In their eyes, it could be seen as dismissive and demeaning, potentially triggering a negative response.
Even without conditions, such an offer could inadvertently pressure someone already in distress to forsake their current life and relationships for an ideal seemingly beyond reach. While you perceive it as an act of generosity, the recipient—grappling with pain—may interpret it as a further indication that hope is dwindling.
Several people have helped, though I suspect they haven't considered how their well-meaning gestures might undermine my sense of self and leave me feeling obligated to justify my situation. It's exhausting and making me feel less.
Their offers included a trailer for me to live in, suggestions to relocate to a non-tropical island “I don’t understand your reluctance to move away from what’s obviously not working” (I care. I’m not judging), another country, or even a different province. If you read these words and they upset, you...
For those eager to help, there are indeed ways to do so. Admittedly, it's uncomfortable to mention, but financial contributions—though challenging to talk about in hard times—can be a form of support. Asking someone to upend their life even more than it already has been, you may as well grab a hammer and nails. Just saying.
Alternatively, uplifting my creative endeavours would also be deeply appreciated. I have a vision for my future, but time seems slipping away. I worry that accepting a soul-sapping, non-existent, menial job now would be like voluntarily walking off a cliff.
Lastly, as part of my creative projects, you can support me by ordering a pair of custom-designed sneakers for $399.00.
Place your order today, and you can expect delivery by 2027.
In parting, our 13-year-old cat is ill, I'm worried, but I can't do a thing about it. When I shared this with a friend, my friend said, "Why don't you just put her down?" I kid you not.
March 4th
Ed Sheeran - That's On Me (Fan Created Music Video) [Brazil]
Flashback Monday
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
|
March 11th
From: Abbott Elementary
Flashback Monday
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
|
