She doesn’t want to be Debbie Downer

HI, CAROLYN: I’m a 47-year-old woman, formerly very successful, currently not. My situation is a result of poor choices and bad luck. I’m slowly working my way out. The issue: Almost all my dear friendships are relationships formed before and during the height of my success. All of them have gone on to reap the reward of their hard work: amazing houses, cars, trips, etc. I don’t know what to say when they ask me how I am — and these are not friends I can brush off, we’ve all shared our hardships and burdens in the past. I can’t tell someone who just bought a multimillion-dollar home that I have less than $22,000 in my bank account and debt repayment for many times that, which I am slowly working out.

I’m obviously quite down about my situation, which includes difficulty finding a job — a factor of burning bridges in my previous profession, the pandemic and age. When they ask how I am doing, with their tone suggesting they want to hear the truth, I’ve tried responding (cheerily), “Nothing new to report!” or “Slowly righting the ship,” or “Oh, you know, onward and upward, continuing to look for a job.” Each answer feels borderline rude or dismissive.

It’s been two years and it will be many years before I’m financially functional, if ever. I don’t feel like telling them I can’t find a job, the few freelance jobs I get mean it will take five to 10 years to pay off debt, and I’ll be able to save again in my mid-to-late 50s.

My friends know I’ve struggled with depression in the past. I know their questions are wellmeaning. But I have nothing new to report and don’t want to be the Debbie Downer who can’t contribute to the conversations about the next car people are going to buy. I also don’t want my friends to walk on eggshells about anything that costs money.

So what is a good, positive, move-along way of participating in conversations with people I love but with whom I no longer have anything in common?

— MM

DEAR MM: What makes you you? Your car? House? Ugh. Right?

Find things to do with your time, to engage you, that don’t involve money and shopping, then talk about them. If your friends can’t hold up their end of conversations that aren’t about money and shopping, then start the process of making new friends who can.

I know this is insufferably glib advice. You’re standing amid the smoking rubble of your old life, lonely and reeling, and I’m telling you to make balloon animals or necklaces out of pasta.

But I’m both extremely sympathetic and dead serious about finding affordable things to do. Small things, distracting things, creative things, generous-withyour-time things, inexpensive things, things that allow you to express yourself fully as a human despite your current limitations. Or, because of, since limits are the sand to our oyster.

Then, when asked, talk about these things you’ve added to your life. “I’ve started —————.” Painting, hiking, dancing, writing poetry. Whatever. “I’ve surprised myself by how ————— I am at it. Have you ever tried —————?”

Even when you know they’re asking specifically about your situation, steer the answer anyway to this new subject, whatever it is.

I can’t help but think you will all be relieved when your account balances stop coming to parties with you.

This tiny change to your daily life could give you anything from a convenient conversational tool with old friends to the foundation of a complete emotional and even professional rebuild.

To the extent it is within your control, make it the latter, I urge you.