PART 2: The absence of compassion when it's most needed.

For as long as I can remember I've felt it, nourished it, and saw in others its absence.  This is not said with pride, but with humility, because having compassion means you feel deeply.  It's not always a comfortable feeling.  In fact, most of the time it down right hurts.  But, honestly, I couldn't imagine my life without it.

While this entry is steeped in total selfishness, I also recognize within me (as I speak/write) that part of me that reaches outward into those hollow places where love and compassion are missing, knowing that if I could just reach far enough... maybe I can help that fill that void.. even if for only a moment.  Sustainable compassion is a must, and it takes from the soul, the spirit, the heart... and paints the dark with with hope.

I've had a soft spot for animals since before I started kindergarten, and I lived with a mother who possessed absolutely NO compassion for animals whatsoever.  I can't even begin to tell you the horrors I endured, and how they utterly changed me early on.  Even when small I felt it---the need to help, to save, to give love and kindness.  It often got me into great trouble, though.  But this entry isn't about animals, really.  I simply want to show the greater part of me that is often the reason for my bewilderment when humans remain indifferent to others... human and animal alike.  So WTH does this have to do with me or my situation?  Well, quite a lot actually.  Because when compassion is felt and acted on... the absence of it is glaring by comparison.

Trust me, I'm going somewhere with this.

When compassion is called for it doesn't always mean we spring into action like some theatrical superhero.  Many times compassion calls for real action, stepping up to do something significant.  But many times... it just means listening intently and recognizing the emotion in the other person and feeling something.  It's a given that when you feel nothing towards another living being's suffering, you lack compassion.  The good news is, unless you're a sociopath... this can be fixed.

Fixed.  I'm not here on planet earth to fix anyone, nor do I have the desire to.  It's not also my place to judge or decide who needs to fix something.  We all have our opinions, and they don't necessarily have anything at all to do with the other person..except in how it affects us, or those whom we hold compassion for.  Make sense?  Have I lost you yet?

Compassion begins with kindness.  Not the robotic responses that many call 'an act of kindness' they often rely on.  But REAL kindness, the kind that makes you feel something and want to act as a response---emotion precedes the actual action.

Compassion gets your attention.  It makes you want to help, to alleviate the pain and suffering you see with your eyes, and driven by your heart that act that follows will look and feel as real as it is.  People can tell when you're simply going through the motions.  Including me.

When I hear T make jokes, or laugh, or see him shrug off things that are important to me, or something that's causing stress or grief or anxiety... it not only hurts, but it also causes me to retreat in order to protect myself, but it also destroys trust and elicits a silence about the important things about my life.  No one sings to a deaf person in their own voice without a translator.  Well, unless you sing to them in a way that they can hear you.  This is the art of communication.

Once trust leaves, communication is crippled.  I give people way too many chances, to tell you the truth, and I endure much until I'm completely over it all.  And I often do this to my detriment.  The place where I find myself now is that protective place where NO ONE gets in but for a select few (my sons, for example).  I will only talk about the important issues with someone I trust, someone who doesn't lack compassion or caring, those who aren't indifferent.  I think most of us are this way, wouldn't you say?

These days I do my research in silence, sharing what I learn and the resulting emotions, thoughts, feelings, opinions, etc... with no one.  I don't share these things with my kids because, as a mom, I don't want to upset or burden them with my health issues.  If it becomes necessary, things they need to know they will know.  But outside of that, I'm going this alone.  What an unsettling and familiar place this is.

I will get past this, and I will keep moving forward, learning and adjusting my life, thinking, and approach (and so much more) to the recent changes.  It will be my battle, my journey, my healing, and mine alone.  It's okay, though.  I've come a long way to get here.  And it's not like I've not learned anything I didn't need to know along the way.

I've no idea what the next few weeks will hold, or even what the tests and procedures will reveal.  The unknown is there, staring me down, and there's not a damn thing I can do but wait and see what else is revealed.  Only then will I know what to do next.  So many questions remain as to how I will react to anything I discover in all of this health business.

All I can do is wait...