Like most of us, I need a place to vent, a place to be vulnerable, a judgment-free zone where I can feel “safe” in showing my fears and failings — and not putting at risk a job or a relationship or a friendship simply by expressing those feelings. I believe we all need that, and if we are fortunate, we find it in a family member or a devoted partner or possibly a best friend.
Too many of us don’t have that. Not even close. So we struggle in silence, or in isolation, or in a crowd. We hide the way we really feel and what we are really going through.
I have always hoped this little isle on the Internet could be a place of emotional safety, however small, this daily plate of crazy that no longer garners my daily attention as it did for years — my own life, “crazy” in different ways than it once was — which doesn’t mean hosting a place to complain, complain, complain but rather, a place where being real about real fears is, well… just fine.
But I wish I could do more. I wish I could take my virtual magic wand and help someone find a job or medical care or a place to live, or find even just a little bit more hope so that they can persevere in toughing out the hard times that are dragging them down. I wish I had the hours, the energy, the skill, the capital to organize in some way, to tangibly help. But I don’t.
We all go through hard times, though it seems that some people must confront more than their share. Some hard times are luck of the draw. Some hard times are inevitable in ways we may not be able to anticipate — genetics, geography — two examples that come to mind.
Our hard times will not all be the same. While it is useful to compare what we are going through with much more “significant” difficulties — and there are far too many to choose from — that doesn’t and shouldn’t diminish what we may be feeling.
Pain. Fear. Desperation.
And that brings me to this recent comment from a woman named Pen on being out of work, 50, divorced, depressed — responsible for a young child — a comment that has me terribly concerned, and I wish that others would read it and voice any suggestions they might have. I have tried to reach her, as yet unable to, but I am hoping she will stop back and read responses that maybe, just maybe, could make a flicker of a positive difference.
I am also reminded of the perils of “older motherhood” that so few people are willing to discuss — those perils not about pregnancy or caring for an infant, but what it means to grow older as a parent when you start your journey 10 or 20 years later than most. This can be especially problematic when you find yourself on your own, aging (out?) in the workforce, and short on resources and support systems.
I am reminded of the cavalier ways in which people judge others, telling them glibly to “be strong” or “move on” or “get over it” following devastating personal events that may, on the surface, seem common enough. Yet beyond that external view, the circumstances can be so much more challenging than anyone on the outside might see.
And here is yet one more comment, which also leaves me feeling inadequate to the task of making helpful recommendations. I know that isn’t my “job;” I’m a writer, not a counselor. Nevertheless, to the extent that it is possible to help someone — haven’t we all been there? I certainly have, and more than once — don’t most of us want to do precisely that?
How many of us judge others and their behaviors, much less “success” or “failure” without knowing if they are battling depression or invisible illness? How many of us assume that everyone has someone to talk to who will not judge?
On what may seem unrelated, though it is very much on point, this column by Frank Bruni in Sunday’s New York Times caught my attention and held it with impeccable writing and an absolutely relevant message.
Frank Bruni, it seems, is dealing with a condition that may eventually result in blindness. He speaks of the suddenness with which the condition befell him, how he has been dealing with it, and how perspective, resourcefulness, and a support system will continue to serve him. It is a remarkable piece and I highly recommend that you read it.
Bruni’s message and his example offer us a glimpse at our common humanity, at our fragility, and ultimately, our strength. But also — that need to feel “safe” in sharing what is a less-than-pretty picture in our very real, frequently messy, sometimes scary lives.
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D.A., I appreciate you and the time that you dedicate to maintaining your blog and the variety of topics that you write. I enjoy the sharing of knowledge, experiences, thoughts and feelings written by you as well as your readers. ?
? Thanks, TD!
During my travails in recent years, your column has been a safe space for me. Often I would read and read marvelling at how well you express what is going on in my own life. I have never been one to feel comfortable about opening up about my fears but seeing that so many other women are also under- or unemployed while coping with challenging relationships or the lack thereof, somehow made it easier. In the movie ‘Shadowlands’ about C.S. Lewis is a line that has stuck with me since I first heard it many years ago: ‘We read to know that we are not alone.’ And there you have it.
Thank you, Cornelia. I’m always glad when you stop by.
You do an excellent job of bringing up delicate topics with respect for the vastly different ways people might view them.
That comment thread was wrenching. I know too many people who worked for the same company for decades and who had mortgages and kids’ college tuition based on their steady salaries, who found themselves laid off in their 50s. Too old to hire, too young to retire. My own husband had this happen.
You are right about being an older parent. There are advantages–I know I am much more patient than I would have been earlier, and I have already proven myself in my career. But it is very scary to think about trying to pay for college when I’ll be 65 or 68. Will I have work? At one time I would have confidently said I would work until I was 70–I love what I do and it isn’t physically taxing. But now, nobody can say they will have work in 10 or 15 years, no matter what age you are now.
The Bruni piece really spoke to me. While I don’t face uncertainty over blindness, at least as far as I know, I do face what feels like the same uncertainty over other similarly limiting issues. Even if the ultimate solution for such problems always resolves to “do what you have to do”, it is still helpful to know that no one goes through the process without fear.
My mother, on the other hand, is literally in the same place as Bruni, and has been for seven years. I found the article very helpful as a possible clue to her vision problems, especially since her doctors gave up on her years ago. This morning I took her to one of the opthalmologists overseeing a clinical trial related to N.A.I.O.N. Nothing to go on yet, but since she is at the point of grasping at straws, everything is welcome.