A friend of mine started a GoFundMe and asked if I was the anonymous $500 donor. I told her I wasn’t. She asked how much I could give, and I explained that I couldn’t afford to contribute right now. She’s upset.
I was laid off several months ago. Since then, I’ve been working 6–7 days a week, earning less than a fifth of what I used to make. I’ve taken on odd jobs just to keep us afloat. I was the primary earner for a family of four, and now we’re struggling to afford groceries and gas. I’ve stopped some prescriptions and delayed medical care. We’ve sold my truck, my horse trailer, and even my horse.
She knows all of this.
Her nonprofit—the one the fundraiser supports—relies heavily on volunteers for daily care of the animals. I’ve been volunteering there for nine years. It’s hard work, not just petting ponies. It’s dirty, demanding, and often thankless.
With colder weather and the holidays approaching, several volunteers have quit. I’ve already logged 35 hours this month and expect more as I cover shifts while others travel. Even when I’m not scheduled, I handle emergency intakes that keep me at the barn overnight.
Since I told her I couldn’t donate, she’s stopped taking my calls. Now she only texts me about tasks or medical updates—short, businesslike messages. We used to talk multiple times a day.
I understand she’s disappointed. She needs a few thousand more to reach her goal, and I’ve contributed in the past. But I’m hurt she even asked, knowing my situation. I feel like I’ve given so much already—time, energy, and care—for nearly a decade.
I value her friendship and care deeply about the rescue and the animals we help.
I want to clear the air, but I can’t offer more hours—I’m exhausted and barely see my family. Even if I got a new job tomorrow, we’d need time to rebuild before I could donate again.
I’m at a loss. I want to salvage the friendship, but I’m hurt and unsure what to say.
