Letters to the Editor
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sh*t
that made me cry.
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Dear Cary Tennis,
I am so moved by what you wrote before you answered the letter. I printed it out and need to spend some time with it so that I can fully digest all these ravishing words. I felt just now staring into a computer screen, many miles away, that a stranger was speaking directly to me. That I was no longer the person sitting down at that screen. Alchemy.
That is some damn good writing when that happens.
Whoa.
Grateful e.m.
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And yeah,
I am really crying.
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What he said.....
Cary did a great job (go, Cary!) and since he is a guy, he probably understands the LW better than I, but I have to say, I do empathize some. I will be 41 in a couple of days, and smack in the middle (hopefully the middle, not the tail end) of life is a sobering place to be. It's where you realize that certain scenarios you envisioned for yourself are simply not going to happen. I am married with 3 little children--happy, financially ok, with a few bumps, ok health, the usual family dramas--everything in the world to be grateful for. But sometimes it dawns on me that I am not going to finish the master's degree, or publish in the Journal of American History. I am not going to be the museum researcher or archaeologist or academic editor I had been working towards. I am never going to live in a huge city, and I am probably never going to live on the ocean. I won't be able to have four children, and I won't be able to use up all those names I dreamed of as a teenager. I won't be a concert violinist. I may not learn 8 or 9 languages.I won't be famous. We won't restore an old Victorian or Colonial. There are people who are doing these things, but they are not me. I am doing things others won't get to do. When we are teenagers, or in our twenties, even the early thirties, our lives seem full of limitless possibilities. But now, at 40, this is the life I have chosen, and the responsibilities of family, aging parents, my husband's job...all of those mean that the possibilites are narrowing and will continue to do so as age takes it toll on us. That is why some people decide to chuck it all and follow whatever dream they once cherished, or have an affair with the old high school sweetheart, or whatever. They miss that sense of possibility and the excitement it brings. Not a good idea, I think, but I understand those people better now, because I miss it, too.
So it is midife, and that's ok, but that doesn't make it any less serious, because who wants to be miserable and anxious. Take Cary's advice, and hey, meds are ok and preferable to, say, a motorcycle (aka "donormobiles") or a mistress.
I would add one thing to Cary's advice, though. It might be valuable for you to find a cause outside your family to support--Habitat for Humanity, environmental things, community welfare organizations, CASA...because it always helps to help someone else. It gives you a sense of purpose beyond the "joe jobs" most of us have, and it can be exciting to see how much you have to offer. Oh, and I know this is Salon, but hey--maybe it's time (if you haven't already) to give religion (yeah, God) a look. It does help to realize that there is something bigger out there than ourselves, and that just being Jackson Browne's "Pretender" has a point as well.
Best Wishes
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Yes, go to the gym.
First, Cary, I love your column. Sometimes I think there is something wrong with me. I never met another man who reads advice columns as regularly as I do. But yours is the best.
LW - Take Cary's advice about treating yourself well. Somehow, I got through my 40's without going through what you describe. But it's hitting me in my 50's. Changing things to live the life I want is the only thing that makes any sense. Try it.
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Dear Cary
I always wondered if you read the letters from readers, and now I know.
I am in the group that don't consider it a fullfilling day until I have read the SYA column. I begin my days with SYA.
Personally, I think myself lucky that you had all that fund of experience of a not-so-great-life, various unglamorous jobs - and now can bring your love of writing together with your life experiences and combine it into a real service for fellow humans, one person at a time.
My bias is already stated. I love your approach to the advice column. How people can complain that you draw from your own experience, or talk about yourself too much? It is simply beyond my powers of comprehension.
Don't they want you to be REAL?
Don't they want a real human being at your keyboard?
Don't they want someone who has known suffering to understand the suffering or problems of another?
My previous environment was with a miserable group of people. Nothing I did ever pleased them. I was always wrong.
I am still the same, except now I don't hang with those miserable people anymore. I have normal friends. I have happy co-workers. They do not blame me for things that go wrong. I have not been criticized in my new environment and I have been here in my new location for now 2 whole years.
Some people have itchy lips. Pass by them on a street corner and they will blab out some remark, "Go back to xxx." And you wonder what you ever did to them. It isn't you. It is THEM.
It isn't me. It was THEM.
Nobody yells at me here.
But the internet keyboard is everyman's land. Some people have itchy fingers behind anonymous monitors. They do not have enough to contemplate. Maybe they need some real problems.
So, to scratch their itch, they find things to complain about -for example YOU --- your writing, your advice, your inclusion of personal contexts.
Bah! They're a bunch of sour grapes.
Have you noticed they do not do it only to you but to other SALON columnists? So you see it is not YOU, it is a general problem with bullies.
These bullies never left the schoolyard.
They are still stunted schoolboys / or schoolgirls.
Bullying takes place everywhere.
And now it takes place on keyboards from people without a face.
If I were a seeker of advice I would write to you and ask you, Cary, what do I do with bullies? They complain immediately about the way I do things, about everything. It bewilders me. I don't know why they do it.
Now what would you say to me, the seeker of advice on bullying?
You might say that bullying is never cool. Cruelty is never in vogue.
I am glad you took the time to write, Cary, in your ever thoughtful way, about your private reactions to knee-jerk critical letters from readers of SYA.
Cary - you have admirers among female and male readers. If I were a man, I could say, "Cary, I love you, dude." and you would get it. As a female, I don't know how to say "I love you" and get it across. So, I just have to say it anyhow as clumsy as it might be.
I love you for the way you are a human being.
I love you the way you are a human being first and a writer next.
I love you as an imperfect human being.
I love the way you have shared your progression with us, your insights with us.
I love the way you started a home remodelling project and then wondered what the heck you got yourself into...how you discovered how many shades of green exist.
I love the way you understand that sometimes life is chaotic and bewildering and that we can muddle through.
I love what you have divined about human nature, where we are vulnerble, where we are embarrassed, where we don't want to be laughed at, where we want to be encouraged.
Please continue as you are, Cary.
If it even means anything, I am so glad your entire wad of experiences have been allowed an avenue for service in the SYA column. Personally, I think you were made for this column.
Really.
Don't go away, Cary.
Don't change.
Stay as you are, please.
FROM: A Happy Camper