This confronting blog is part one of a two-part series. Part two will be tomorrow at the same time. This blog is about raising awareness of a situation many are too afraid to talk about. It may be distressing to some readers.
I am 63 and at the time in my life that I know for certain that nobody cares.
We were middle income with our own business and doing quite well, employing six people and a good turnover, living a comfortable life, contributing to society.
The Global Financial Crisis hit us extremely badly, so badly, in fact, we lost everything. Nobody cares.
As people listened to the news of the world, it was alright for multimillion dollar companies to fail, owing millions of dollars to their workers. People shake their heads
But when we failed, through no fault of our own, hurting no one but ourselves, the same people look down their noses at us showing that nobody cares.
Many people that we had as long-time friends, no long bothered about us; it seems they were too embarrassed by our plight, and far too embarrassed be seen with us.
What do you do when you are over 60, you have no money, and no one wants to employ you? What happens when you are alone, and you hear the call of the grave, whispering from the deep dark recesses of your mind?
A worried mind, which has contemplated this solution on previous occasions. Contemplated to a point where the planning was done.
Even contemplating the gathering after the funeral, seeing the family standing around and someone says, “What was he thinking when he decided to do that?”
In haste, I wrote this question down, on the top of a page, hoping to answer it with “nobody cares” and leave it for them to read.
Instead, I wrote thirty pages before I stood up, but the story had nothing to do with my demise.
It was a story set in the 1800s. A story that went from the tomb raiders of ancient people in South America to a Scottish descendant of Mary Queen of Scots and how he may have been responsible for the untimely death of the English King George the IV, who died in1830 at the young age of 67 under mysterious circumstances.
The story carried on so far to reach about 220 pages in a novel format. But I have no money to get the manuscripts to the publishers. Should I continue?
When we are at the point where we do not have enough money for food or the roof over our head, what do we do? Ask for help? Where?
What do I tell my wife of 38 years when in the black stillness of the night, she sobs at what is going to happen to us?
What happens when I can no longer stand the massive pain of seeing my wife day by day just going through life with a glazed look, nothing to look forward to, each day wondering what is to become of us. We are not living, merely surviving by breathing, and looking straight ahead with a blank look and sad eyes.
What do I say when I spend the days on the computer looking for work but getting no replies because I’m over 60, nobody cares.
Then finally on my headstone will the plaque read, “This man is here long before his time, because, nobody cares.”
Does anybody care? Is there anyone out there that feels the same way as our guest contributor? We would appreciate your thoughts and feelings on this as a genuine issue facing many people…not just over 60s.
If you or a family member are experiencing a personal crisis and need someone to talk to, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.