Apathy Is My Super Power...

Recently, I was part of a conversation about super powers.  Not the cool, comic book kind of powers like flying or invisibility that one wouldn’t mind having.  No.  This was a discussion about our innate powers that we use as a defense mechanism in life.  We all have them.  But what is mine?  My mother and I decided that we share Apathy as our super power.

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.