I was broken today. Not badly, and I’ll certainly be quite a bit better after I have the time to hide in my room, burn some sage, and calm down a bit.
Human compassion, I find, is a strange thing. Over the course of the last few weeks, I’ve have a position that offered me a unique perspective. I’ve seen a person I know defend his own actions without consideration for the consequences of them, due to his lack of confidence in being offered compassion. I’ve seen someone else treat someone with cruelty, over the belief that it was the lesser of two evils. I’ve seen my own compassion sputter, shine like the sun, and crack under strain. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.
Actually weird is becoming my normal. Not sure what I think of that.
In either case, the thing that finally did me in was watching my sworn-sister drive off this morning, knowing she’d have to check herself in to a mental hospital instead of driving home. I can’t say I feel that I failed her, though the utter frustration at being able to do nothing else sort of gnaws at me. So, for the second time in my life, I got to a point where I was so absolutely raw that I ended up having a hard time looking people in the face. I didn’t want to be unable to help someone else, and the stress of that anxiety neatly broke me in two. Well, not quite in two; I will say it was rather gratifying to see how well I did with the situation, all things considered.
In either case, what I found curious was what I did on the way home.
I had seen on Facebook this morning that the father of my one friend was probably not going to live out the week. His name is Ronald, and he was like a second father to my ex. Now, I have nothing but wishes of luck and success for my ex….just so long as her luck and success keeps her at arm’s length or further from me. She’s a good person, but even the sight of her brings up things that I’m not happy about and then I will never get a true apology for, and we had all the compatibility of oil and water in either case.
I called her up, and asked her if she was okay.
So here I was, broken, and I was offering a hand out to the person I wanted to see the least at that moment. At first, it wasn’t out of compassion; I wanted to prove to myself that even while I was at my lowest I could do better then I thought. I wanted to challenge myself…push at my weakest spot.
The funny thing was that after I pushed…I truly did care. Oh, I still wanted her at arm’s length and everything; I just could feel sympathy and empathy for her….even through the bitterness and the hurt.
Sometimes, I get asked by close friends why I put myself out there in the way that I do for the people I do. I find it somewhat amusing that this is never asked by friends who actually need me in such a way at that moment, but I do see there point. Today showed me why. Hate in easy. Apathy is easy.
Compassion is fucking hard…and it’s the reason that I become stronger every day.