Aisle Of Wit

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It’s That Time Of The Month Again

An interesting commentary on MediaPost yesterday caught my eye, regarding the precarious state of senior spending power.  To be sure, it’s a worthwhile read.  It reinforces some realities about the evolving state of what and how seniors (those over 65) are coping with the economic pressuees of recent inflation trends and its impact on their retirement savings.  Certain marketers, particularly those in the nonprofit sector and those targeting gifts for friends and family were urged to alter their expectations and messaging in these “challenged times”.

I’ll provide the link below for you to peruse at your direction.  But as I read the fine print, it was obvious that those details didn’t quite pertain to me.  I’m not quite 65, I have no intention or capacity for retirement, I’m not one of the 68% of Americans who have a pension and, rapidly, my savings are disappearing.  And since rent and other monthly bills are due in a couple of days, I’m particularly distracted.  And this coming Friday, for someone who is a bit more aware of milestones and anniversaries than the average Joe, it’s all the more triggering.

With only a couple of forgettable short-term exceptions, Friday will mark two years since I’ve received a regular paycheck from someone other then the U.S. government.

I’m constantly admonished that my honesty is disarming and perhaps counterproductive.  Rest assured I don’t go into every single one of the now 641 opportuntiies since July 1, 2020 wearing my heart on my sleeve and showing this sort of despair.  “Act As If”, “Don’t Let Them See You Sweat” “You Got This”.  If I had the actual bumper stickers that these reassuring social media posts came on I could perhaps open a side hustle.  Alas, I don’t quite have the skills nor the patience to do that.

I know what I CAN do.  I can think, way, way, way more intelligently than the typical person.  I can strategize; my track record is stellar.  I can teach; my evaluations speak proudly to that.  I can physically do more than I’ve been able to do since I was a child, and the level of energy I have coupled with the freeing of dependence on medication that my life used to be is exhilirating and uplifting.

Here’s what I CAN’T do.  I can’t seem to find a single human being ANYWHERE in this GALAXY who happens to have an opening–or even KNOWS of one–to actually PAY ME for it.

And it’s THAT time of the month, so YES I”M DELIBERATELY CAPITALIZING!!!

You try simply living life in a world that is almost unrecognizable from the one that existed before March, 2020.  In that world, I was considered a high income executive, albeit one who was aging, in terrible physical shape, and trapped in a life that I can’t even begin to describe had levels of emotional, financial and fiscal abuse that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I guess that version of me would have paid more attention to an atticle like the one linked to below.

But if you can even attempt to fathom how absolutely meaningless all that is compared to the panic, the despair, the frustration, the consternation, the absolute level of sheer manic self-doubt and horrible thoughts that keep me up as the end of the 24th month of this inexplicable bullsh-t, well, congratulations.  Because you’re a heckuva lot more compassionate than almost anyone else in my actual world eveer has been over this span.

I’ve written about the exceptions; you know who they are and if you’re one of those special people, I’m eternally grateful to you.   But DEAR LORD, for everyone else who thinks that a pat on the back, an outdated link to a LinkedIn article, a non-functioning old e-mail from a long-ago associate who is either too distracted by the insane world we live in, their own personal struggles or, worse of all, couldn’t give a flying f*ck about anyone else since they’re enjoying retirement, can you possibly even devote a fleeting moment from the doomscrolling you may be engaged in to even contemplate how absolutely terrified I am when the calendar is about to change???

I take responsibility for my mistakes, my gullibility, my over-generosity.  I admit I was foolish to lend a drug addict thousands of dollars to buy what I was told was pain medication to help his sobriety.  I admit I misjudged the aspirational musician who pleaded with me to spot him a few bucks to cover his website fees.  I beat myself up for ever believing someone who walked down an aisle with me was ever interested in anything other than a personal ATM for her own addictions, following in the lifescript of dependence on a provider that was set by their hopelessly dysfunctional parents and family.

Much like my choice of who I’ve considered to be a savior and a role model in this impossible journey, one incredibly special but cruelly silent cobra I cannot seem to ever shake from my memory, that part of my situation is where I take full accountability.

But honestly, really, is THAT the sole reason I’m in the f*cked up situation I’m in?


Do you THINK “staying safe” and wearing a friggin’ mask to make some paranoid rando is top of mind when the simple act of paying RENT is so disturbing?!??!

Can you even GRASP how thoroughly deaf I am when the Democratic party begs me for money or even time to support THEIR desperate candidacies??


Now just when you may think it’s time for me to return to the same place that gave me the experience of anal rape, let me reassure anyone who’s gotten this far that actually gives a sh-t that I’m still allegedly being considered for potential openings, both with companies that I’ve known and even at the new donut shop that opened up with walking distance (gas ain’t cheap, you know).  The Mets are doing way to well, and this is absolutely not the time to think of doing anything drastic.


Find me a legitmate job lead.  Find me a source of income.  Dear Lord, even start a Go Fund Me if  you truly want to do something that WILL help.

But don’t you DARE pray for me, direct me to a doctor, suggest a medication or a meditation or even think you’re fuily capable of knowing how much anguish and angst is coursing though MY brain this morning.

Because it’s that time of the month again.  And I’m absolutely, mind-f*kingly, unapologetically, FREAKED OUT!!!

And if you think this sounds a tsd unhinged, if nothing changes in the next 30 days, it’s gonna sound a helluva lot worse next month.

Consider us put on notice.

Please.  No more of this.  If you think you can’t take it…well, for once, think of how it feels on this end.

My hourglass is really starting to run out.

Until next time…

The State Of Senior Spending Power 06/27/2022 (