Every night I sit on my couch with my cordless phone, on the off chance a family member thinks to give me a call. But do they? NO.
Social media is the same, I message a friend and I’m lucky if they reply, I realise I like to book a committed catch up to see people. Coffee, lunch, a film maybe. Something? But I can be content with a reply, a reply and telling me what you are doing is still nice.
It’s not lost on me that others are busy, they have all the things I don’t. Family, a significant other, kids, no kids. For crying out loud. I get it. I am without a job, a mortgage, holidays to plan.
Would it kill people to send me a message? I initiate all contact with friends. I have friends that are tired and busy and they still make time for me, for lunch or something. When I see them, they commit to being sociable with me. We have enthusiastic, intellectual conversations. It is nice, it is rare.
I completely get that people think I’m bitching, whinging and moaning, because they only ever see me when I’m at my best. They only see me ‘smash-it-out’ they don’t see me when simply rolling over in bed makes me want to hurl.
There is nothing like a letter in the mail box that reminds you how alone you are in the world, to set you down a path of depression.
Every year, at my birthday I receive a card from Mepacs, it’s signed by all the ‘staff’ that work for them.
And I am very well aware the staff signed a card which was sent to the printers to use as a template or “whatever” and then they printed off 50 thousand printed birthday cards and then one eventually gets sent to me.
Some of the facts and figures there might be a little off, however the facts remain the same. With the card came a letter basically asking for an update of my contacts.
Now, the first point of call, if I don’t hit the button by 9.30am in the morning is ME! I know, it sounds a little ridiculous. But my ‘in case of emergency’ contacts are my mum (3.5 hours away) and this letter reminded me I need to contact person is within thirty minutes from me.