So tomorrow I am scheduled to have a birthday. There’s still a few hours before it actually occurs (to be completely technical, it’s 4:10 AM Eastern time) so for those of you who might wish I don’t make it, rest assured you’ve still got hope.
And I know there’s at least a couple of people out there who absolutely fervently wish that might happen. I’ve been barraged with threatening texts from one in particular I’d rather never hear from again, and completely ignored from one I wish with the utmost of pious hope for some sort of acknowledgment of any sort.
These tend to be among the only consistent responses and e-mails that I receive from actual human beings these days. For the most part, virtually everyone else I’ve ever known seems to be far too busy, far too preoccupied, far too distracted to check in with how I’m doing more than once a year, if that, and even that often in the form of a auto-reply on social media from a calendar prompt.
“Happy B-Day!” “Hope you’re well”. I realize it’s the social norm to be grateful and courteous when someone takes a nanosecond or two to actually hit a couple of keys to offer even that. But, bluntly, my requirements for what constitues friendship are a bit higher. For one thing, some sort of capacity to accept that if my response to that “wish” is “I’m not doing well. Please find time to reach out”, I mean it. Sorry not sorry for my honesty. It’s what made me successful in an era where it actually mattered. And the fact that almost never is there any followup to a truthful response only reinforces my belief that the person who offered that sentiment couldn’t care less if I was actually well or not.
My needs are extremely simple. I need a decently paying job with some sort of connection to the decades of experience I have, and enough money to finally shut up the relentless forces in my life who place money over absolutely everything else. I need someone–anyone–who actually still knows someone–ANYONE–in a position with a company, ideally in media, who is open and willing to actually interview me in person and be open to hiring someone who has literally more success and experience than almost anyone they can hire–including, unfortunately for me, many of the people who actually I might be working for–who, still more unfortunately for me, doesn’t address any incentivized DEI tickmark which I am well aware far too many folks remaining in HR positions at the few companies still allegedly hiring people seek as a priority.
With one exception in 50 months, there is literally no one I have known who has been able to offer me that via the “resources” of LinkedIn who can do that. And, bluntly, while I am exceptionally grateful for the opportunity I do have, it is exhausting, expensive and, in the eyes of some who are still convinced that any physical contact without social distancing and masking, classifies me as enough of a “danger” to even avoid having dinner with. Such is my support system.
And I do get it–I have no children, mortgage, school debt or serious illness to encumber me as so many others do. So therefore, the concerns and worries I have are, at best, pushed to the back of any list of priorities for any help and, at worst, are seen as thoroughly unjustified. At least that’s the kind of lecturing and admonishment that I tend to get from an awful lot of those who actually do get activated to react.
I’m advised to “seek help”. not that many of those who offer such advice have investigated these “opportunities” they believe are at my disposal as thoroughly and as often I have over the 50 1/2 month nightmare that my life has been since my world came crashing down for reasons far more serious and permanent than any “pandemic” could. I have absolutely no use and have had zero positive experience with online resources, yet in Los Angeles there are no active support groups that don’t cost money that are meeting in person because, of course, we’re still in the midst of what the local newspapers continue to insist is a “summer wave” of COVID. When I have found such needles in a haystack they have been sparsely attended and eventually are shut down by organizations that have lost funding. Not that any resource lists online have updated those realities. I don’t deny I can use “help”–I just haven’t yet been able to actually find any, and, bluntly, neither has anyone else in my life.
I’m asked in my most desperate moments if I can turn to friends and family in lieu of professional support. Trust me, I try. What family I do have contact with have, as they remind me, much more pressing matters. I hear from them, if I’m lucky, perhaps twice a month, never in person. They live across the country, have never offered me a ticket to see them and when they did travel to the West Coast they were somehow too busy to even spend a moment seeing me. My best friend lives 800 miles away; I haven’t seen this person in nearly two years. My longest-lasting friend has never picked up a phone to actually call me without my prompting in more than a decade. But, of course, I have absolutely no right to be upset about this because, after all, who am I to actually expect that kind of consideration given my track record?
Many people are prompted to direct people to give to a charity they have interest in in lieu of gifts. I did that for a while. Right now, still more bluntly, there is no charity that I believe is more in need than the one I started many months ago. Call me selfish, and you’d probably be justified to do so. But right now, I’m in so much emotional pain and in the midst of a renewed round of abusive behavior that I just want it all to go away.
So go ahead and mock me if you must. But I assure you, were I not so tortured and desperate. I wouldn’t be yet again providing this link. While the goal remains admittedly insurmountable, even a smattering of new activity would allow me to address the most pressing matters in my life. The ones that keep me up at night despondent and crying. Some friends have even told me the best solution to all of this would be to simply pay up. I’m not sure these people understand that my despondency is only enhanced by my inability to take their “sage advice”. So if you think this request is pathetic, chalk it up to some others who have advised me this might be a viable solution.
I suspect I will probably get a whole bunch of activity in the next 24-ish hours from folks prompted to hit a like button and consider that an engagement. Aside from the momentary adrenaline rush of perceived connection, it honestly won’t matter. I’ll accept your wishes, even your prayers. But we both know that unless you’re actually in a position to give me an actual hug, let alone a little help, it’s ultimately meaningless, ephemeral and, from this vantage point, heartbreaking.
If you’re in this city, for G-d’s sake, find a few hours out of your day, overcome your own myriad illnesses and appointments which I can see you occasionally do for once and mother of G-d find some time to even have a cup of coffee with me. Or go for a walk. Unless you’ve walked in my shoes, you cannot fathom how debiliating it is to do absolutely all of that completely without companionship for the majority of these 50 months. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I need to know I actually matter enough to you to spend a few moments with, and no, I won’t give you COVID. I haven’t had it and I have no symptoms, so please stop insisting I’m somehow delusional that I’m “safe”. I am.
And if you’re not, pick up the phone. I hate texting; autocorrect is frustrating. It’s far easier to actually talk the way we had to. Remember, I’m not young any more. Not that many of you aren’t quick to remind me of that fact.
When I think of how these somewhat less emotional requests have been responded to in past recent years, I’m leery that this will yield any sort of tangible results. And honestly, while I’m referencing the alternative to the milestone, I’m too much of a coward to actually do something that selfish on my own. Much to the chagrin of at least two people. Besides, when the time comes I’ve asked that my ashes be scattered over a brick at Citi Field in New York, so at best you’ll literally be able to walk all over me for eternity, or at least until my DNA is scattered by wind and rain over the sludge that is Flushing Bay.
But that doesn’t stop me on days like this for at least considering that I might feel somewhat less hopeless and alone if that choice were made for me.
Yeah, it’s THAT bad.
Please prove me wrong for once. Regardless, I’ll see you on the other side.
Until next time?
1 thought on “Milestone Or Tombstone? Sometimes, I Wonder”
Steve
Your pain is palpable and frankly I don’t know how to respond. Empty words, saying I am so sorry your life has been a living hell these past 50+ months. doesn’t seem purposeful. I am not a phone person and barely manage to keep in touch with anyone, so I am not going to make a promise I know I cannot keep, but I have heard you and feel your pain. My birthday wish for you is that someone in your circle, who could really make a difference in your situation hears you and is moved to help. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
Susan