Almost exactly 48 hours ago, I wrote about a painful experience I had in August 2017. A few minutes ago, I suddenly remembered a detail that contradicts something I wrote. Rather than only editing the original document, this separate post points out my mistake.
Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
(Sadly, my experience tells me that publicly apologizing for the mistake instead of quietly changing the mistake will negatively affect how people view me, speak of me, and treat me. Nevertheless, I believe that publicly acknowledging my error is morally correct. One of the very few advantages I have in my currently-horrific life is that I have increased liberty to behave morally because it is difficult for other people to make my life worse than it already is.)
Here are quotes from my original post:
[A] friend unexpectedly contacted me and said that he would pay for my [full] recovery.
He didn’t send any help.
[H]e suddenly and unexpectedly changed his mind.
Especially in conjunction with my mother’s false hope, his offer and sudden retreat were extremely painful.
The statement, He didn’t send any help,
is wrong. The reminder is true. A few minutes ago, I remembered that while he and I talked by email about my life and problems, he sent me US$48.40.
I apologize to him for not remembering that fact when I wrote the document two days ago.
I also remember how his US$48.40 assistance affected me. When my mother said she would make sure
I had shelter, I was extremely skeptical because most of her “help” has revolved around telling me that I am a bad person and telling me that if I had a positive attitude, then my problems would disappear. Therefore, I didn’t make any plans that relied on her. In contrast, this friend has consistently been caring, supportive, empathetic, and kind. His offer was amazingly generous, so I had my doubts, but when he sent help to me even before he had a clear understanding of my needs, I felt hope.
When my own mother decided that I was not worth one dollar of help, I was hurt because my mother rejected me. I had a different feeling after my friend changed his mind. I felt foolish for trusting another person. I felt I had wasted my time and wasted my extremely limited energy talking to someone about something too good to be true. (If something sounds too good to be true, then it probably is.) Initially, I temporarily felt that the world valued me enough to help me to escape my nightmare and to let me once again help other people. (“Esteem” literally means value, so when the world values you, it holds you in esteem.) And when he changed his mind, I felt that the world was reminding me that I do not have value: I felt, and still feel, humiliated.
It’s important to remember that my experiences with my friend and my mother were not isolated or unusual events. If they had been unusual, then it would be easier for me to cope with them.
Instead, these events represent the way that most of the world treats me. Many people treat me with love and compassion. But most people do not see how their actions (or inactions) affect me, or are indifferent to my suffering, or actively want me to suffer. And, for every person who treats me with kindness, there is at least one person who wants me to be severely injured, tortured, or killed. I’ve never made a list of the threats I’ve received because it is overwhelmingly painful. However, I did report a serious threat to the police. The person lived close to me, knew where I lived, knew what I looked like, and had been to prison for violence, but the police and the prosecutors did not do anything about the threat.
You can help me to heal, to feel I have value, and to protect myself from people who want to attack me. PayPal.
