On a lighter note, here’s something wholesome that happened on the Moon Landing day.
On the 20th of July of 1969, Enrique Ernesto Febbraro, a dentist, historian, musician and member of the Rotary Club proposed to celebrate friends day in honour of the Moon Landing. As Neil Armstrong put his left foot on the moon, Febbraro wrote a hundred thousand letters to different countries, saying:
“I consider the landing of Apollo XI on the Moon as a friendly gesture of humanity towards the universe and I also think that that a nation of friends would be an invincible nation. Because of that July 20th is the chosen day!”. He later received tons of replies from different people all across the globe.
And ever since then, friendship/friend’s day is celebrated in Argentina as a way to celebrate the moon landing, and also celebrate the friendships we made.
For more information, I recommend reading this article!:
Something that is considered so wrong and unethical can be so comforting, and give so much sense of control though.
And, perhaps, one of the most painful aspects is knowing that no one really cares, and the experience might be traumatic for them - albeit not a surprise if you’ve been vocal and open with your struggles - that was coming and it was just a matter of time.
They don’t know, because you don’t say anything. There’s no point. Not anymore. You’ve said enough. Nothing changed.
You’re supposed to fix the issues on your own, go to therapy, take medication, solve the problems and only then, come back to the sweet and loving embrace of others.
You can’t complain. You know (more than anyone else) existing as you, with all these disorders, is extremely burdensome and exhausting. You can’t blame people for leaving or not being able to support you, and you can’t guilt them into caring either.
You say “no one cares” even though you know people care. Someone, somewhere will care. The issue is how they don’t care about you in the way you need them to care.
Obviously, you ought to communicate exactly how they can do that… and it is usually detrimental for your connections: you wish for something they cannot give you.
It feels lonely.
The idea that you might die and even in death, you will be smothered in compassion and platitudes, empty words from people who might have thought you were an odd or even tormented person when alive.
You’re so unfair.
You resent people because they withhold something from you, something you want, even when you know they owe you absolutely nothing.
You selfishly move away from them as soon as you realize they will, like all others, cause you to become more and more triggered with your unmet needs.
You prefer to be alone than in the company of others that will remind you from your pain, your loneliness and your love that has no tangible outlets.
You prefer the comfort of death over the struggles and joy of living, because living in inescapable loneliness is an agony that you can’t relieve.
