Yesterday was spent throwing away most of what I had accumulated during my life. It was painful and a severe cut to what had been my life until I settled here in Ohio. Kitchen goods, holiday decor, books, it may not seem like much to many, but it was my life.
Somebody else needed the space. Someones who were younger by close to 30 years. I caught several remarks saying things like " not leaving anything that someone else has to go through when I'm gone." Said indirectly, but meant for me all the same. I'm 63. Not 83, or 73. It felt like " well, her time will be up soon, best clean up her mess now "
I realize that the sacrifice of space had been made for me at no cost. I'm absolutely grateful that it had been offered to me, not being able to afford storage has always been a problem.
What hurts is that I feel written off. What was important to me was less of a priority because of my age. Ageism exists. Funny that only my family is guilty of it. Total strangers, and closest friends don't view me as 1 step from the grave.
Heavy sigh. It sucks to be thought of as almost dead. Most of us aren't given a death date until we actually die. Death doesn't reveal it's secrets. It will eventually come for us all, but I'm not resigned to live like my time is up. The lack of empathy is a serious thing that really bothers me.
K
No comments:
Post a Comment