I’m looking. I’m searching. It isn’t about income, although it would be nice to have some. It isn’t about boredom or getting out of the house. I need something to DO. Not something to fill my time, but something to get up in the morning for. Something that makes a difference however small. Something that gives me a reason to be here. Being useless sucks.

When the boys were here I had a reason, and someone who needed me. I thought I was making a difference in their lives. I was employed and worked hard. I didn’t always enjoy it, but I thought that it was important and that I was helping the college in their educational mission. Devon thought I was the smartest person in the world, and he and Ian loved me and were always happy to see me and sad to see me go home. My son truly seemed to enjoy talking to me about space exploration or geology or history or whatever topic came to mind. I helped him to make ends meet or to care for the boys, or any of the other things that grandparents/parents step in to do. It was a small little world, but my presence made a difference in it.

Where do I go now? What do I do? Why am I still here? My daughter has always been very self reliant and doesn’t need me. The college has made it clear that it doesn’t need or want me. Victims’ groups that say they need my expertise don’t. They all have very clear ideas of what they want done and who they want to do it. My contributions aren’t really welcome, because change isn’t really welcome. They want me to take what has always been done and make it miraculously produce what it has never produced before. There is no way to be successful at something like that. And, while I have 25 years of experience in fundraising and database management, when it’s time to actually hire someone to do one of those things, I’m not considered.

Against all logic, outward appearances are all that matter. I’m fat and old and I’ve never cared about the way I look. I live inside my head, in my intellect, which, as Ian said once, “has fire in it.” I work hard, I read fast, learn fast, and am interested in everything, especially people. I believe that most people are capable of achieving almost anything through hard work and determination, whatever their background or circumstances. All they need is a chance. Unfortunately, no one believes that of me. Why? I like almost everyone. I’m great with animals, children and computers. I can write well, speak well, and think on my feet. I can hold my own in almost any discussion, because every subject interests me. I want to help people. I want to make things better… not just for me, but for everyone.

So, why am I so useless? Too old, apparently, to work, but too young to retire. Uneligible for benefits, but not worth being paid to do anything. Popular on the internet, all over the world, but not worth talking to in person. When I volunteer for things, I’m not really trusted to do anything but the most basic grunt work. My suggestions aren’t welcome in any context that will really make a difference. I have passion but nothing to focus it on. Why is our society so obcessed with youth and beauty that even in this troubled economy they would rather hire three people who are young and unreliable than a single person with experience and work ethic who would produce more than the other three put together? Is it really that impossible to see beyond the surface?


About griefsjourney

Neal's mom. Devon's and Ian's Oma.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Purpose

  1. GeorgieB says:

    Jan – outward appearances can be very deceptive and mis leading. People, shallow people, look only at the external aspects and don’t realise that they are seeing only the tip of the iceberg. They miss the fact that inside people are churning over ideas, thoughts, fears, intelligence, memories, emotions, etc etc etc. They do not want to accept that there might be something “more” because it would take them out of their comfort zone into an area where they may have to look more closely at reasons why these things are going on.

    People see me – they see an outgoing, confident woman who hasn’t a fear in the world but the reality is I am petrified of being alone, afraid of the dark and suffer from DID. They don’t relaise that when I am “dealing” with situations it isn’t me but one of my personalities whose job is to deal with that scenario and me, the real me, is cowering in a corner somewhere unable to function.

    They see you and they see (taking from things you have said recently) someone who is too old, too large, a professional victim who doesn’t care about her outward appearance. What I see – from your words here and on FB is a lady who has suffered the most unimaginable of losses in the most unimaginable of ways surviving and sharing their strength and inner feelings. I see someone who is determined to continue despite the dreadful circumstances and despite what people “see” I see a very brave lady who inspires me. Someone I think of regularly – especially every time I see something to do with Bob the Builder because of one of your previous posts. I see someone who I would aspire to be like should I ever, ever have to find the strength to deal with a dreadful situation again.

    You aren’t a professional victim Jan. To me you are a survivor. You survive every day and you inspire me with your openess and honesty.

    If the support groups won;t let you help them – how about striking out on your own? Set up a movement to raise funds/awareness/support in memory of your boys? Maybe not now – maybe in the future when things settle a little for you. Show these doubters that you are the capable, beautiful person I see you as – despite never having met you. If you already do something like this then please forgive me.

    And now I have written an essay – sorry 😦

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s