KiNdAfaBuLous

Intervention and the True Meaning of Empathy

I consider myself to be a pretty empathetic soul. According to my close friends, that’s one of my strongest, most enduring virtues. Having cultivated this sense of empathy for several years, I have always tried to analyze someone’s situation by imagining myself in their shoes, and then I try to analyze their actions by imagining how I would carry myself if I were given their circumstances. That’s the informal idea behind empathy. It’s like that horrible Toni Collette-Cameron Diaz movie “In Her Shoes,” except it’s not a movie; it’s real life.

On occasions where my empathy seems less generous-when I express judgment on someone’s precise situation, I try to do so from an informed, logical place. For instance, I have mixed feelings about the trustworthiness of Taylor Armstrong and her “story,” so I tend to be slightly less empathetic. Although I must acknowledge that if she is telling the truth, then I hope she gets the help she needs to become a stronger, more real, happy human. I realize that I’m using the “real housewives” as examples of my empathy (or lack thereof), and I kindly acknowledge the absurdity of that.

Back to empathy-I try to analyze and imagine someone else’s life, and then I try to imagine how I would live their life (if I were living their life). That’s not complicated right? That particular thought sequence of empathy keeps me in my head a lot with random figures from different walks of life. And last night-this particular empathetic curiosity put me in the shoes of a crystal meth addict featured on A&E’s show, Intervention.

This crystal meth addict was a gay Canadian man, who had been sexually abused by a close family member, and then adding insult to injury (literally)-he had been physically abused by his stepfather-for being a gay boy from a small Canadian town (from a Jehovah’s Witness family). The final straw for this man was the tragic, sudden loss of his sister, who had been his only ally in life. Considering this man’s circumstances, it was fair to say that this man had it unbearably, inhumanly tough. Having tried to commit suicide in his teens, he survived the attempt only to spiral into a life of drug abuse and sad promiscuity.

Watching this man talk about his sad life, my heart shattered into a million, fleshy pieces. I cringed hearing him talk about how he could “only be fucked by older men” because that’s all he knew from his early adolescent sexual development. I cringed when I saw him trolling random MSN (who uses MSN to hookup?) chat rooms for men to do drugs and have sex with, so he could feel a fleeting semblance of pleasure. I cringed when I heard him talk about how his mother was completely clueless about the sexual and physical abuse he suffered under her care as his biological protector. My heart almost couldn’t take this man’s life (and here I think I have problems), and all of these feelings of empathy occupied the Wall Street of my Brain.

All of these feelings of empathy sat there and clogged the plumbing of my brain stems. How could one person have all of these shitty things happen to them, and then not be expected to fall into intense drug use? While I, myself, have never suffered from drug addiction, I definitely have an addictive personality; and I thought about coupling an addictive personality with a lot of horrific life experiences-and where that would lead me. Watching this man suffer-I could feel myself walking so many sad miles in his shoes-trying to find small opportunities for happiness in a totally sad, hopeless life; and I yearned so deeply for this man to be happy and healthy and fulfilled-without the help of drugs and sex.

At the same time-life is about choices. Not to get all self-helpy on you guys, but we are the architects of our own destinies. Life is about accepting your cards (when they are dealt unfairly) and making a decision as to whether those cards will defeat you or whether you will keep moving forward and changing life’s hands. I know that might sound foolishly naive, but I really believe it. This man took the easy way to soothe his pain, and while I feel immense empathy for him from a very human, self-aware place; I also want him to fight back for his life.

I want this man to see if he can channel and collect his gifts to give some positivity back to the world. I want this man to feel happy and content within himself-without having to use mind altering substances to get him there. I want this man to have someone love him and help him get to a place where he can love himself all on his own (without needing someone else’s help). I want this man to live a rich, fulfilled life, and I think that’s the main virtue of empathy.