Rambling on inside my mind . . .

I do not wish to feel. Scratch that. I do not wish to feel the pain of others . . . yet it is inescapable. I have prayed to stop feeling, at a time in my life when I held a belief in prayer. I have meditated to stop feeling, knowing that I rarely (if ever) have reached that state of mindfulness. I have painted to stop feeling. I have read to stop feeling. I have indulged in chocolate to stop feeling. I have not turned to drugs for fear it may actually stop me from feeling, albeit briefly. I should clarify what I wish to numb myself from as the word ‘pain’ is quite vague. I tend to view the position of others in 360 degrees; I view a picture of the individual as a whole instead of parts. My tendency to see others from this vantage point has made me successful in my work, although it has often left me exhausted. In this light you see the needs of others, my fault lies in feeling the emotion behind the suffering of others. I have yet to sit through “Schindler’s List” in its entirety; during my first viewing in the spring of 1994 I ran from the theater and hung my head over the toilet as my body wretched uncontrollably. I feared leaving the stall in my embarrassment; I now recognize that this is what our reaction to genocide should be. I had the same reaction to “Hotel Rwanda” which I have only attempted to watch once. Many of us are moved, we are human. Yet I seem unable to separate myself from the emotions I perceive others to be feeling. I don’t know if I’m making any sense, perhaps I am not as adept at describing my thoughts as I had hoped. My desire not to feel pain has extended to my own pain, pain which I need to experience and process; not allowing myself to feel has often required me to distance myself from others in order to distance myself from pain. This has resulted in few close relationships which, at best, are strained.