The Impossible, Empathetic Response.

I have a hard time with empathy.  And it's not because I'm an asshole.  Although many people probably think I am one when all they want is to have their feelings validated and have someone sit with them in their moment of emotion.

It's hard for me to do that.

See, for the majority of my life, one of the ways I cope with a bad situation is to provide an explanation for it.  There has to be a reason for these feelings...and if I can name it I can claim it.  That worked for me...for the most part.  It does not work well for many others.  In fact it makes it worse on some occasions.  Some people just want validated for their feelings.

POST SCRIPT.  I'm coming back and saying....I don't feel good writing this.  I hate it.  I hate natural disaster.  I can't imagine what it would be like in a tsunami.

We watched "The Impossible" last night.  It's the movie telling a story about a family who survived the Tsunami that hit Thailand in 2004.  *May contain spoilers.  But it's a true story so it would be like watching Titanic, knowing the boat still sunk.  The family the movie followed is a family of 5 with three boys.  The majority of the movie is about the mom and the oldest son. The mom got trashed.  Literally thrown around like she was a nothing.  The movie did a good job or quelling many misconceptions about tsunamis.  Some people always wonder....why can't people just swim as the water rises.....those ignorant pricks.  The mom suffer sever lacerations to her leg and chest.  Despite this, she was able to find her oldest son.

All this time my wife is sobbing and incredibly emotional.  She's totally connecting with the mom.  Knowing that she'd do the same thing to fight for her kids.  I can say that confidently.  She's admiring the strength of this mom.

Through the remaining parts of the move, the dad finds the two other younger boys and shows the decisions he has to make.  Eventually they all unite and survive.  There were moments when I briefly connected as a father.  I just wanted to hug our children and never leave our house ever again.  I refused to let myself cry as I was watching this movie.

Why?  I haven't a fucking clue.  Over 200,000 people died in this Tsunami.  200,000.  Let that sink in for a bit.  And we're watching a movie about one family that survived.  See, if I made this movie it would have been over in the first 30 minutes.  The tsunami comes and everybody dies.  The movie does give airtime to a few other people that have lost loved ones and tells it tells a few stories.  It does show the mass hysteria.  But it only covers a day and a half.  And most people that watch this movie will forget about it after a few days.  Few people will actually be so moved to actually do something in the humanitarian aid field.  And all I can think about was is it worth it?  How much good did they do vs. the cost of the movie and the money it made?  Did they donate all the profits to humanitarian aid?

Don't get me wrong.  I thought they did a great job in this movie of communicating real emotion.  The love of a mother for her son to stay alive until he's safe.  The journey of the oldest boy going from the punk kid to a hero.  The father choosing to leave his two youngest in search of his wife and oldest.  I don't know if I would have done that.  Miraculously them all uniting at the hospital where the wife and oldest was, the mom finally said she could die in peace knowing the kids were with their dad.  But husband won't let her.  Lots of emotions communicated.  But....that's what movies are supposed to do.  Get you to connect with the characters.

Anyway...this is my processing.   I'm not satisfied with connecting with characters in movies.  There is an inner stirring in my the pit of my soul that I should be there.  That I should have been the first on a plane to Thailand to help.  When i was 16 and just got my drivers license, the Columbine school shooting happened.  April 20, 1999.  I was moved.  I wept.  I sat on the side of my bed at our home on pine road and pleaded to my parents that they should let me drive there.  This was the first time I had ever felt the effects of a tragedy like that in my soul.  They told me there was nothing I could do, but I didn't care.  I just wanted to be there with them.  I wanted to just be with the victims and their families in their brokenness and pain.  And they wouldn't let me go.  I guess I never let that go.

I guess if I was in their shoes I wouldn't have wanted my son to go either.  But what are we so afraid of?  Why wouldn't we go?  Why wouldn't we leave our comfortable lives to go be with people in pain and suffering...if only just to empathize.

Usually I'm in a better place after I write......fuck.