That’s not exactly right, though. Because “Apathy” implies that I don’t
care. Of course I CARE. I just choose not to CARRY. Totally different.
My friends at Miriam-Webster – and Mr. Roget, too -say that
apathy is the feeling of not having much emotion or interest. It’s insensitivity, indifference, disregard,
coldness, and detachment. None of those
things really describe me.
The thing is, I don’t see the point in lugging my own
baggage around. I sure don’t need to
pick up anyone else’s. That doesn’t mean
I have no empathy. It just means that if
there’s anything I can do to help a situation, I do that. Then I keep moving. Sometimes, it’s clear that I have nothing
helpful to offer the situation, so nothing is exactly what I offer.
I’ve written before about the Grief
Train but it seems to have evolved over time. Thanks to the prevalence of social media,
people have a forum to display just how much they care. Or, more to the point, how much MORE they
care than the previous person. I see it
more and more and it just makes me cringe.
If a person is truly a friend, and they are having a difficult time, my
instinct is to send loving thoughts and to contact them privately if that feels
right. Uninvited public and highly
visible declarations of my concern twist the focus away from the person at the
center of the situation on to me. “Look
how much I care! Look how much more I
care than everyone else!”
Obviously, I don’t have it all figured out. My way isn’t the only way. Public forums are useful in sharing news and
messages and initiating further discussion on topics that benefit from
dialogue. I’m just not likely to jump
into every conversation. Likewise, in a
room full of people, I’m as likely to stand in a corner and listen as I am to
participate in whatever is going on.
I have absolutely been called “aloof” by people who don’t
know me. That’s fair, I guess. I’ve been accused of being shy, of being
snobby, of being sad, of being disconnected, of being any number of things that
are counter to the person expected in whichever environment I’m in.
The other day, my 11 year old daughter was called into the
guidance counselor’s office because some teacher sent an email expressing
concern that she wasn’t happy.
Whaaaatt!?! Anyone who knows this
kid knows how far that is from reality.
But it seems that my girl has inherited her mom’s RBF. (That’s “Resting Bitch Face” for those who
don’t know.) So this counselor asked her
questions, there were no red flags, so she pushed and pushed until my daughter
grasped at straws to pull out some very minor conflict from the previous school
year to give this lady to get her off her back.
I had to sit down with my kid and explain RBF to her and try
to prepare her for a lifetime of “Smile!”, “Why so sad?”, “Cheer up!” and so
on. All because she keeps a bit of a
poker face while observing new situations before deciding whether or not to
dive in.
So, my unwillingness to attach myself to problems or
situation that are not my own doesn’t mean I don’t care. If a person is in my life – even if just for
a fleeting moment – I care about their well-being. I care about their happiness, health,
comfort, and pain. But that doesn’t mean
I have to take it on myself. First and
foremost, I love. I care. I help when there’s something I can do. And then I keep moving.
Does this mean my superpower is Apathy? I don’t think so. Maybe my real superpower is Cameo. I can enter a scene, quietly perform my part,
and exit stage left. I think that's a pretty useful skill, too.
