June Carney
21K posts
June Carney
@JuneCarney
Democrat, widow, mother, grandmother, friend. Breast Cancer Survivor, retired. #VOTE BLUE 🌊- NO DM’, #BlueCrew
Massachusetts 가입일 Ağustos 2009
5.5K 팔로잉7.7K 팔로워
Help my mom pick out the mother of the groom's dress! Please!
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@amna49854 Round neck on green dress, long sleeves on purple dress and belt on striped dress.
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Just moved into a new house and have no idea what this thing is 😅
It’s mounted low near the floor, randomly placed in the hallway.
The house was built in 2005, but I can’t figure out what it’s for.
Anyone recognize this? 🤔
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@lippyent A roof over my head and helped me buy my first car so I could go to work.
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My last question of the day: What’s your most memorable concert?
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Be honest 🧐....
$30 million just dropped in your account. First big purchase?
A. Private jet
B. Mansion
C. Yacht
D. Pay off family debt
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WHY
by Michael Whelan
It’s almost impossible to believe, but even now… after everything… I’m still getting trolled, attacked and abused daily on my new page that has 5,000 followers, not 35,500. Some of the abuse is done publicly. Most privately through DMs.
And the question that keeps haunting me is painfully simple:
Why?
Why spend precious hours of your life trying to wound complete strangers who have done nothing except openly write about hope, love, mercy, caregiving, grief and survival?
Why target people already carrying unbearable pain?
Why mock cancer? Why mock hospice? Why mock death? Why mock a man simply trying to survive losing the woman he loved for decades?
I will never understand that darkness in people.
This time around I’ve had to become cautious about who I follow and trust. That saddens me more than people realize.
The person who destroyed the account and community I spent nearly ten years building wasn’t some anonymous stranger hiding in the shadows. It was someone I trusted. Someone who asked me to help promote his podcast. I said yes because helping people is what I’ve always done. And somehow that kindness ended with my work, my platform and years of memories being ripped away overnight.
And still the cruelty continues.
One person recently wrote: “Rebecca isn’t dead. It’s all a scam for money.”
Imagine reading those words after holding the hand of the love of your life as she took her final breath.
Imagine surviving cancer, caregiving, hospice and overwhelming grief… only to have strangers mock your pain for sport.
And maybe that’s the part I’ll never understand about the internet.
Why are people so desperate to hurt innocent human beings who spend their days writing about hope, love, mercy and compassion?
Maybe broken people sometimes resent kindness because it reminds them of what’s missing inside themselves. Maybe cruelty has simply become entertainment. Maybe the world has become so numb that empathy now looks suspicious.
I honestly don’t know.
What confuses me most is this:
I don’t fight about politics. I don’t preach religion. I don’t attack people over their beliefs, identities or lifestyles.
Almost everything I’ve written over these past eight years — nearly three million words freely given away — has been about one thing:
Hope.
Hope for the frightened cancer patient. Hope for the exhausted caregiver. Hope for the grieving widow or widower sitting alone in a silent house wondering how they’re supposed to keep going.
Before the hack, my writing reached hundreds of thousands of people every week. The numbers were undeniable. Now the reach is a fraction of what it once was. The algorithms tell the story better than I ever could.
And honestly, I don’t know how much longer a human heart can willingly walk into this kind of pain every day.
It would break my heart to leave.
But lately… it’s also breaking my heart to stay.
To the real ones — the people who have held me up, defended me, encouraged me, cried with me and loved our family through the darkest chapter of our lives — thank you.
You helped carry us when we no longer had the strength to carry ourselves.
And maybe that’s the part the trolls will never understand.
When Rebecca died, I didn’t lose a character in a story.
I lost the only person who ever truly knew every broken piece of me… and stayed anyway.
So when strangers call her death a scam, or mock my grief for entertainment, they aren’t attacking a social media account.
They’re walking through the ashes of my life with muddy shoes.
And some nights, after the comments stop and the house goes silent, I sit in the dark beside her urn and honestly wonder how much more of this my heart can survive.
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Little Trixie on my sofa. I'm looking forward when she visit me again🤗
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