I love B, I do.  But right now, I just want to scream at him.


He’s complaining to me about how the cast iron pan his mother got him for Christmas is too big for the stove in his new apartment in Manhattan.  At length and in detail.


Meanwhile, I don’t think I can afford to pay my electric bill and buy food this month.  I hate him because that’s his big problem–his pan is too big.  I want to scream at him that I cannot care about his cookware problems when I don’t know how I’ll afford to buy food to cook.


I try to be happy for him that he’s got a good life.  It’s not without its problems, I know–he’s struggled a lot with depression for his whole adult life; his brother and sister can’t stand to be in the same state as each other.  That’s stressful stuff.  But his father is rich and powerful, and his family is never going to toss him out for being depressed.  His parents are paying for his apartment in New York City, and his father got him into NYU.  He knows his family will always love and support him.


And right now I hate him for that.  It’s not fair of me, I know that.  His privilege is not his fault.  For a long time, I lived with that same privilege, and back then I didn’t really get what it was like to be poor either.


It makes me feel completely alone.  There aren’t even words for it–it’s more than just loneliness.  It’s a feeling of complete isolation and self-blame and self-hatred.I can’t stop blaming myself for my situation–my lack of money, my lack of family, my lack of anyone who would even notice if I never left the apartment again.  B’s sitting in his apartment in Manhattan, telling me about his problems with his pan, and I can’t stop crying because even the person I love the most doesn’t understand.



January 5, 2014 · 4:07 am

14 responses to “

  1. The cast iron pan in his manhattan apartment! Oh gosh haha

    • Your compassion is absolutely stunning.

      • Sorry I didn’t mean it like that! I am agreeing with you that that is such an annoying thing to complain about.

      • No, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I overreact and get bitchy sometimes when I’m upset. I shouldn’t have replied while I was still so upset.

      • No no overreaction at all! I would’ve done the same. I totally relate to this post and I so jealous you live in NYC. Is it all that they say it is?

      • Oh, I don’t live in NYC–my SO and I don’t live together. I actually hate New York. It’s just too much of EVERYTHING. I get sensory overload really easily, so I’d just never leave the apartment. I live in a small town in western Massachusetts. I like it here, but it’s really hard to get by without a car here because the public transit system leaves much to be desired. I’d really love to move back to Boston. I lived in the suburbs, so it wasn’t crazy sensory overload, but I could get anywhere on public transit and had all the resources of a big city. I also want to work in politics, and Boston’s the state capital. I’d have a lot more opportunities there than I do out here in the middle of nowhere. Still, my town is a great place to live. It’s the first place that’s ever felt like home to me.

      • Oh wow! I want to work in politics too. I study law and politics in Australia. Is it snowy and freezing in Massachusetts?

      • There’s snow on the ground now–we got about 15 inches last week. Last night and this morning, we had freezing rain, so I just didn’t go outside. Tomorrow it’s supposed to get really cold again–we might get windchills as low as -20 F. (I’m too lazy to covert that to Celsius, but basically it’s really fucking cold.)

        Do you have a particular area of interest in politics? I really love working on campaigns–hoping to land a paid job on a campaign for state attorney general or governor for our upcoming election. I’ve done a lot of volunteer work on campaigns, but it’d be great if I could get somebody to actually pay me for it. Down the road, I could see myself doing some sort of policy work or lobbying too, maybe. Once I finally get my shit together, anyway.

  2. I think it’s really normal how youre feeling right now. It’s true.. it’s unfair. 😦
    I hope you can find some way to at least find the money to eat and pay the electric bill.

    • Thank you. Sometimes I just need to hear that I’m not just a crazy bitch, you know? My mother told me so much as a kid that my feelings were crazy that sometimes I honestly can’t tell. Especially when I’m really upset. There’s that part of me saying, “God, Hope, all he did was say he wished his mother got him a smaller pan. You’re being completely irrational. It’s not like he was trying to hurt you.” And that sounds SO REASONABLE that I think I really am just crazy. I hate how much she screwed with my mind. At least my father just screwed me. Sometimes I think what my mother did to me was far worse.

      • I understand. And I can really tell you, you are NOT a crazy bitch. It’s normal. Because this is unfair and ofcourse that has effect on your feelings + thoughts! It’s not like youre acting on them by stealing from him or robbing a bank.
        It’s horrible what your mother told you!
        People often ask what kind of abuse is worse, and honestly, I don’t really know either.

  3. I hear you. I sit in my office and the ‘girls’ come in one after the next to complain at me about their weekend. One couldn’t find the perfect shade of pink for her nails…one got her hair done but didn’t like the colour, one had to spend the night at home with a sick child. Wow….must be miserable to be you…I often want to say out loud. *sigh* Sometimes people just don’t understand. xx

    • Yeah, I have to fight the urge to say, “You know, I just really cannot care about that at all, and I’m sick of hearing you whine about something so insignificant.” But I know comparing hurts is a slippery slope. No one wants their problems to be looked down on, minimized, or dismissed.

      I think that what I was really hurt by was that he didn’t even ask how I was doing. Just went on and on about his goddamn pan.

      • Ahh yes, makes sense. I have a coworker who will ask me how I’m feeling and then talk right over me going on about her shoes or whatever. Always makes me grit my teeth…if it was D who pulled that i’d be livid.

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