You can't have my fear
Jan. 15th, 2012 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolorosa_12I returned to blogging via a rather circuitous path. Charles Stross posted something about worldbuilding (with a focus on what the future will look like), which caused catvalente to have an anxiety attack, which caused me to confront something that I'd be avoiding thinking about: for the past couple of months, I've just been weighed down. Not with my own problems (which are at times considerable), but with sadness for other people's.
This should not be taken as a long whinge about how overburdened I am. Far from it. There is something in my character that seems to make my friends comfortable talking about their problems and fears with me, and I view this as an honour, a responsibility and a privilege. But at the same time, because of this, I am privy to so many people's sadness and fear and pain. The levels of these emotions ebb and flow, depending on how people's lives are going at any particular time, and at the moment, things are pretty close to overwhelming.
And I seem to be having problems separating other people's emotions from my own. And so a friend of mine drops off the face of the internet, and the hurt is almost unbearable. I hear about how my friends - people I love - have been struggling and suffering and alone, and it's as if these things are an attack on my soul. No matter how long I live, no matter how much evidence I see to the contrary, I cannot seem to stop being hurt by the fact that terrible things happen to good and kind and loving people, that love cannot protect you from grief and pain, or prevent you from hurting those you care about. Over the past few years I seem to have transformed into a bit of a mother hen, and I can't seem to prevent myself from feeling such overwhelming despair and fear on behalf of others.
It was exhausting, and for some reason it took away my will to engage, to participate. Aside from the odd tweet and Tumblr reblog, I produced nothing.
But I've come to a realisation: it is terribly, terribly patronising and insulting to take on and project these emotions on behalf of others. What right do I have to feel despair vicariously? Shouldn't that be for the people concerned to decide to feel? I don't seek detachment - never, never - and I don't wish to be less involved than I am already, but just as I need to own my own emotions, I need to allow other people their own and stop trying to be a sort of emotional sponge, soaking up grief and fear and despair on other people's behalf in the mistaken hope that that they will be protected. It's not my decision to make, they're not my emotions to feel.
I fear this may be impossible. I worry about everything and everyone, I'm fearful for everyone, when you're sad, I mourn, when you tear, I'm torn and all that. But I've got to try. If I really do love these people, I owe it to them to try.
catvalente to have an anxiety attack, which caused me to confront something that I'd be avoiding thinking about: for the past couple of months, I've just been weighed down. Not with my own problems (which are at times considerable), but with sadness for other people's.This should not be taken as a long whinge about how overburdened I am. Far from it. There is something in my character that seems to make my friends comfortable talking about their problems and fears with me, and I view this as an honour, a responsibility and a privilege. But at the same time, because of this, I am privy to so many people's sadness and fear and pain. The levels of these emotions ebb and flow, depending on how people's lives are going at any particular time, and at the moment, things are pretty close to overwhelming.
And I seem to be having problems separating other people's emotions from my own. And so a friend of mine drops off the face of the internet, and the hurt is almost unbearable. I hear about how my friends - people I love - have been struggling and suffering and alone, and it's as if these things are an attack on my soul. No matter how long I live, no matter how much evidence I see to the contrary, I cannot seem to stop being hurt by the fact that terrible things happen to good and kind and loving people, that love cannot protect you from grief and pain, or prevent you from hurting those you care about. Over the past few years I seem to have transformed into a bit of a mother hen, and I can't seem to prevent myself from feeling such overwhelming despair and fear on behalf of others.
It was exhausting, and for some reason it took away my will to engage, to participate. Aside from the odd tweet and Tumblr reblog, I produced nothing.
But I've come to a realisation: it is terribly, terribly patronising and insulting to take on and project these emotions on behalf of others. What right do I have to feel despair vicariously? Shouldn't that be for the people concerned to decide to feel? I don't seek detachment - never, never - and I don't wish to be less involved than I am already, but just as I need to own my own emotions, I need to allow other people their own and stop trying to be a sort of emotional sponge, soaking up grief and fear and despair on other people's behalf in the mistaken hope that that they will be protected. It's not my decision to make, they're not my emotions to feel.
I fear this may be impossible. I worry about everything and everyone, I'm fearful for everyone, when you're sad, I mourn, when you tear, I'm torn and all that. But I've got to try. If I really do love these people, I owe it to them to try.