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Dear Aunty Pam,

 

I’m a divorced mom, dealing with an ex husband who is consistently late with child support payments for our two children and every day feels like a struggle to get by. One of my friends on FB reposted a meme about the price of gas that says, ‘Instead of complaining about the price of gas, try sitting on a concrete floor in a train station, holding your cat.’

 

I made the mistake of commenting that as sorry as I am for the people of Ukraine, I’m struggling putting gas in my car and I don’t think that makes me a horrible person.

 

You can’t believe the people who piled on and lectured me, that no matter how I was struggling, nothing could compare with being bombed and fleeing my home.

 

Now my friend will barely speak to me and I’m just devastated. I was just trying to point out another view and feel completely vilified. Was I wrong?

 

Signed,

AK in Myrtle Beach

 

Dear AK,

 

Oh, my dear girl…what happened to you was completely uncalled for, unfeeling and cruel. To attack anyone on a fixed income, or trying to make ends meet, who happens to comment that the price of gas indeed is making their life even more difficult, is a self righteous, pompous windsock.

 

Of course nothing can compare to the horrors of Ukraine, but who declared that it’s a contest against any other struggle? Trust me: Trying to raise two children on one’s own, counting every penny and despairing that you have to choose between groceries and a tank of gas is being felt by a lot of people.

 

Repeat after me: You. Were. Right. Also, Aunty Pam heartily suggests you take a break from social media. It’s nice to catch up with friends, but if you can’t share a completely honest and valid point of view, then they’re not ‘friends’ at all. As made all too clear by the person who now barely speaks to you Who needs that aggravation??

 

In the meantime, I think you were quite wonderful and I’m willing to bet anyone reading this, and who has posted that meme, is reconsidering quite a few things…

 

Cheers, dear!

Aunty Pam