I got up yesterday morning, fixed the coffee, and fired up the laptop. And waiting for me in my Facebook mailbox was this message:
Are you still stuck living out your sick pathetic existence?
I knew immediately who sent it. It was from an obviously fake profile, but a fake profile I’d dealt with in the past. A fake profile created by someone I used to be friends with.
I won’t go into who this person actually is. It’s not worth it to out him/her. It’s someone that I just couldn’t be friends with anymore, and frankly hadn’t been in contact with (other than on Facebook) in years. I ended the “friendship” last winter, because rather selfish decisions this person made had deeply hurt other friends that I actually AM close to. As a result, I wound up dealing with a lot of really juvenile, stupid backlash in the form of this fake profile. But it had ceased about 5 or 6 months ago, and so I figured this person had put on the proverbial big kid pants and gotten over it. Until yesterday morning.
I’ll tell you — it’s been a long time since I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of infantile rage. It’s the kind of yowling rage that one typically encounters in middle schoolers, or toddlers with poopy diapers. You certainly don’t expect it from an alleged adult, but then we are talking about Facebook, here.
I stared at this message, dumbfounded, for a good minute or so, and then deleted it.
I honestly don’t believe that this person expected me to answer that question, but you know what? I’m going to answer it.
Dear Former Friend With The Fake Facebook Profile:
You ask if I am “stuck living out” my “sick pathetic existence.” I’m trying to figure out exactly what you mean by “sick” and “pathetic.” But I’ll venture a few guesses.
I’m guessing you mean that it’s really sick that I’ve worked at the same job for twenty years, where my work goes into helping create really amazing art and opportunities for young people. I’ll also assume that it’s pathetic that I got to go to the Tony Awards a couple of months ago, because my company was recognized for that amazing art, and those opportunities for young people.
Or maybe you mean that it’s sick that I am doing my best, on a daily basis, to help care for my mother-in-law, who has Alzheimer’s. Maybe you mean it’s pathetic that I moved out of the city to help make sure that she could live with dignity in her own home, for as long as she is able to.
Oh! I know! It’s sick AND pathetic that I get to play music I love, with my best friend from high school. Or is it just sick that my husband is also playing music with me? We’re playing this weekend. Actually – we’re playing two times this weekend. Pathetic!
I guess I’m pathetic because I have friends and family to whom I am fiercely loyal, who I have been able to call at all hours when I am scared or hurt, even when they are dealing with horrible life blows themselves. I guess it’s sick to believe that when THEY are hurt, I need to do the right thing by them.
Or perhaps by “sick and pathetic” you just mean “NOT sitting at my computer at 2 o’clock in the morning, using a fake Facebook profile to attack someone who unfriended me.”
If that’s the case, then – yeah – I’m totally stuck there.