a cry for help
People talk about suicides,..after
the fact… and they say things, like “he
seemed fine” or “she was happy, I don’t understand”. Perhaps they were not close enough to the
person to see or hear the cries for help.
Often we are told to
let people know if we need help, if we need someone to talk to. But what do people do when someone actually
asks for someone to talk to; says to the world: “I need someone to talk to,
please talk with me for one hour.” People
do nothing. They turn away, they run away.
How do I know, you ask…. Because I
have been asking, then begging, and finally screaming that I need someone to
talk to. No one cares.
I am ‘a downer’,
because I have announced that I am lonely.
All I am asking is for someone to talk to on a reasonably regular
basis, a few times a year for one hour.
And out of hundreds of relatives and friends? No one has time for one lonely
person. What does that say about humankind? Suicide is at an all time high.
What I have learned
is that I truly am alone. Despite being
included in six or seven gatherings a year, I am all alone. The kind of interaction
I need most do not come from large group gatherings. Every single soul on earth
needs at least one person they can confide in. I have been hurt enough times
that trust is a huge issue now. After years of having an “open door” for anyone
who wants to talk with me at all, I have lost the ability to have a simple,
chatty conversation. I no longer trust
anyone. I cannot confide in any person,
because I have been taught not to trust anyone.
I have been told to join
a club, volunteer, and go to church.
None of those things will give me the ability to trust anyone, and none
of those will produce a confidant. As
for church, I tried that, and I felt more alone there than I do in a crowded
room full of people with no one talking to, or listening to, me. I went to several gatherings of people with
whom I have things in common, and I was not included in conversations, but
talked past or around, as I sat and observed. But then I never did well in
groups. - By the way, thanks
for the useless and uncaring advice. Advice givers who have a confidant,
friend, husband, child, significant other – you really do not get it.
I have no money for
head doctors, nor the desire for an impersonal, clinical, “relationship” that
never ends. I do not wish to be medicated because, I cannot emphasize this
enough: I am NOT depressed. I am lonely. And,
before everyone totally freaks out… I am NOT suicidal, I AM LONELY. This is not actually a surprise to me,
because my mother told me that, as a single woman- I would be a pariah. No one wants a third wheel hanging around.
I have been ignored
and shut out for so long, that I am done now.
Done asking for someone to give a damn.
Done asking for someone to talk with. I am too inconvenient.
I am become invisible
and doubt my own existence on the mortal plain.
This is who we
are. This is what our society has
become. Seven billion hypocrites, who give lip service to helping others. Drive
by the homeless, ignore the hungry, and do not, under any circumstance reach
out to the person who asks for someone to talk to. If you cannot spare an hour,
every other month…quarterly….then I refuse to believe that you would reach out
to anyone who asked for your help.
So, I really don’t want
to see or hear any more of this “you can talk to me” nonsense. Stop lying to yourself and stop lying to
everyone on the planet. Everyone is only
out for themselves, and no one really gives a crap about anyone else.
The proof for me will
be that no one will comment on this blog post, because no one EVER comments on
any blog post I write.
(I will stop asking for someone to talk to. And before you blame social media, I have all but quit facebook, and have actually found more support on twitter than you could imagine.)
 |
| NOTHING LIKE A COLD, INPERSONAL SIGN TO HELP YOU OUT - the chain link fence is particularly nice touch |
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
References:
forget about me
....
...
..
.
