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*Beth* · Nov 06, 2020, 08:50 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by wolftrap

Thanks all for sharing. I appreciate all of our common experiences. It is a conundrum to figure out how much is our "fault" vs. how we can function in our society the way it is structured. I have come to the conclusion that society is not ready to accept our mode of being. For instance, if told people that I have cancer or MS, they would totally accept where I'm coming from. But to have an MI...people don't know how to react. OK, this is an extreme example, and I was not in a good situation, but I was at a bar once and talking to the guy next to me, and he noticed that I had a medical band on my wrist, and he said "what is that for?" and I said "I have bipolar", and he actually said "Don't kill me." and he was an Afghanistan vet! I had been so respectful in asking him about his experience, and he totally blew me away. Oy...

WOW. Sounds like he was ignorant, and afraid of himself.

Honestly, I think it's weird and rude when people ask about work or source of income, unless employment is the specific topic of conversation...and even then, I'd wait for another to volunteer the info.

I had a friend once; she and I were in a poetry class together and formed a nice friendship. At the time, I had 2 young children (5 and 2). My husband and I traded off caring for them; we wanted to be with them as much as possible. He was in between jobs; we were extremely lucky because his grandmother had left him a trust fund, which we lived off of for that year.

I never mentioned anything about our income to my friend. I wasn't avoiding it; it just didn't seem relevant to the friendship she and I had. She must have been burning with curiosity I guess, because one night she and I were waiting for BART (subway) in San Francisco. She turned to me with this sort-of ferocity and said, "So what DO you and your husband live on?!" I wasn't really sure what to think, so I stated the truth - that at the time, we wanted to be with our children and were living on a trust fund.

It was...weird. I don't know. Maybe it wasn't weird. But it felt weird, at least the way she almost snapped at me. I remember having the thought of looking directly at her and saying, "Oh. We're drug dealers. I never told you?"

I wonder what she would have said. She was kind-of snobby.

I'm glad I never told her I have bipolar disorder.