Each day I can watch him trudging home from wherever he has been. Fortunately it is downhill from the bus stop to where he lives. He never smiles, eyes focused on the ground a few feet in front of his pace.
Beaten down.
The world so heavy that he can’t even look up.
Shoulders sagging under the weight of the last straw, and the last straw before that… and the one before that. A succession of so many minor beatings to the ego that he flinches reflexively at anything, everything, expecting the worst
Back bent from too many sorrows.
And you want him to rise up?
Why? Is his life going to be better? Tomorrow, when he rolls out of bed, is anything he interacts with going to be better than it was? Is it worth his effort? Does he have any effort to give?
I’ve been there, a time or two…or ten, when all one worried about was where the next bottle, or toke, or hit was coming from, anything to reach numb. Anything more than numb was a bonus.
Fortunately, I found more. I found a way out. I found people who would sometimes lend a hand. Sometimes it was enough. Mostly it wasn’t quite enough, but it kept hope alive that someday, maybe there might be enough. It was a good thing that I am an optimist, by nature, and being beaten down couldn’t…or maybe just didn’t…totally destroy that. I can do so, if we are not careful.
And I made it through…to a better place…and to a better place, repeated often…and eventually to this place. Life evolves. So does a life. Sometimes. Sometimes it may be so slow that it is agonizing to watch.
I never get to see his eyes…but I feel like I know the pain there. I think I’ve seen it before…in my own mirror.
And who knows? Maybe I am wrong. Maybe there is a happy space that awaits him. But I know that the world lets loose a sigh as he passes.
So much could have gone wrong. Apparently, for many people it does, because I do not find many of them in places like this, like here at Docudharma, striving for more. Trying to discover what the world wants to be. If indeed that is why we are here…or some of us are here…or at least a few…
You have to feed a man’s stomach and his soul before you can convince him to join in helping others.
Other than that, Doctor Maslow, how was your day?
Life sometimes goes on, at least for some of us. We sometimes need to pick and choose what to invest our outrage in. Because there is so much all around us to be outraged about and our outrage is a limited resource: unleash too much of it and despondency creeps near, ready to pounce.
And the back bends and the shoulders sag further under even more weight. And the legs become leaden and bleeding feet are dragged, one painfully in front of the other until collapse is imminent.
And these are the people that get harangued for not standing up to the oppression of their world. Our world, too, unless we just want to abandon them while we parse what the latest words uttered by some politician in some speech are supposed to mean, a speech that will never be heard because the People of the Numb want the world to shut down and go away, if just for an hour or two, hoping that the dreams that they’ve had dashed and the pain they experience daily, hourly, and so minutely, death by a thousand cuts, might just drift away for a moment.
It’s hard to sell Hope in a world where the internal sky is always gray.
Where the sky is always gray, people don’t have the power to rise up. At least they don’t recognize the power they may have. They can’t locate any spare energy to transfer*, regardless of the time period involved.
Yesterday, buhdy wrote:
The vast majority of humans will only seek to use the power of resistance when they have been made ….uncomfortable…. enough.
The people of the gray skies know nothing but discomfort. They can’t distinguish comfortable from uncomfortable. The only different feeling they can discern is numb.
 Sky Ensnared
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*Physics: Power equals energy transfered divided by duration.
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…because writing about it has a way of being depressing. So maybe I just singed the edges a bit.
I’m sure many people in this country are feeling different degrees of despondency these days. But, the more that their personal circumstances (or those of their close family members or friends) impact them at the basic levels of Maslow’s pyramid, the less likely they will have the energy or will to use the power of resistance.
One or more in a family of four can be VERY comfortable in their life, while one or more in the same family circle may be hateful of the entire “family” situation.
The weight of the world, or just the weight of an individuals own demons can throw a real monkey wrench into the daily grind of a family.
I say this simply because today, my younger son’s best friend (who is also the brother of his Wife) committed suicide. He never was comfortable, but he was such a sweet and caring young man. He is adopted from Russia, along with his four sisters, by a couple here in the USA.
His sisters are doing fine, his parents are well off, yet he just was never comfortable. He was a good looking kid. His sense of humor was well timed, as he was the first laughing or smiling when something was truly funny!
Yet, it wasn’t enough. Introverted and introspective, somewhere in his psyche, beyond anything we who loved him could see, simpley said “Enough.”
We were so damned comfortable with Erik. I’m still comfortable with him, as his spirit lives on in me.
He just wasn’t comfortable with this world. His outrage never bubbled up to the surface. It was there. He just didn’t feel comfortable discussing it. I think he was worried it would make US uncomfortable, even though we asked him to talk to us more.
I’ll miss Erik.
Thank you for your diary today, Robyn. It really helped me.
of tackling a very difficult issue Robyn.
Its actually been one of my pet peeves for a long time in my professional work. Many funders these days want us to have our client families involved in planning and governing our work. Given the situation of most of the families we work with, this just shows the complete ignorance of those funders.
Way too many of them live from one crisis a minute to the next. We often find ourselves rushing so fast to put on bandaids, that even we can’t see the forest for the trees…and we’re not living it every minute of every day. And from all of that a slow numbness or depression does take hold very often.
This is what America means to some in our communities. And no, we’re not likely to find them hanging out here at DD or ready to join the revolution.
…I wondered if you were spying on me, Robyn. 😉
But this afternoon a close friend of mine called to say she had a new granddaughter, born a few weeks early but everyone is doing fine. My friend was absolutely giddy with joy. A new life always helps to refocus things. Sure was a nice way to end the week.
‘fake it till you make it’ optimism. im constantly reminding myself that i really do have everything i really need, as well as a good deal of what i want…
and i generally dont complain or whine about my sitch (or, at least i TRY not to ;), but if i were honest i’d admit that life has pretty much kicked my ass at this point. im a ‘go down swinging’ type, though….
These are the people we need to rise up for.
In a pretty amazing coincidence we have a birth and a death being reported in the same thread. My deep condolences brobin, there is no sadder passing, since the grieving for what might have been is so present.
Congratulatios fort! The promise of a new life is the most powerful symbol of hope that there is.
And thus life continues, the cycle of birth and death that we are fated to watch until it is our time to go……and with that cycle, even with the knowledge, or perhaps, because of it…. the hope against hope that this short life that can seem so long sometimes, so endless… can be more, that we can somehow make it more, that we can somehow make it more for all of us.
And that is all that keeps me from being the man in your story, Robyn. And I think to some degree all of us here. We do NOT do this just for ourselves, but for all of the hopeless people….and indeed, to keep us from being hopeless ourselves.
except for two things. I won’t give up, and sometimes I do look around and still find beauty.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/…
If the first one doesn’t work then try another. Some people end up trying five or six until they find the right one. Each one of them is an investment in time. It takes about 8 – 10 weeks for them to equilibrate with the brain chemistry. Once you find one that works you need to start testing for the right dosage.
I’ve seen a lot of people go through this process – up close and personal – me included. You don’t have to suffer with depression. It’s a case of chemical imbalance in the brain. There is a strong hereditary correlation factor. If you have it in your family you have a much higher probability of having it yourself. Science is just catching up to this.
Serotonin is a very powerful neurotransmitter that affects almost every aspect of your perception of being. Albert Hoffman discovered the most powerful serotonin-active substance. In no way am I recommending that. (Although I do like to clean out the cobwebs now and then. ;-);-);-)) There is a very strong connection between serotonin and mysticism. All-in-all, it’s good to have it in balance.
Just laying it out there. It’s a beautiful summer night here. The waxing moon is shining through broken high clouds. Stars shining everywhere. Warm breeze gently blowing. Foliage in full show rustling in the wind.
Bertha is sending a fine swell onto the Cape. My board is all waxed and ready to go. The garden’s looking fine. My wife’s mother will die any day now; my Celtic mystic, surrogate-father will die any week now, my cancer surgery seems to have gone well and life is absolutely beautiful.
Serotonin balance is critical to the perception of being. If it’s balanced then you can just be. Don’t know any other way to say it.
Shanti.
through reading the essay and wanted to stop and say, wow, robyn, another notch reached. your description of the boy was perfect. i’ve been there too. not easy to describe and yet, you did.
rambling… the depth here has stopped me cold. personal story: we (as a family) listened to popular music when i was growing up. big popular music fans. i knew every word to the Sounds of Silence album by whatever age (also South Pacific, Sound of Music, West Side Story, etc). it’s only recently that i’ve realized how much those songs informed and shaped my thinking. you are a few years older than me, Robyn, the age of my siblings. their music ruled. 🙂 also, the Simon and G album was a personal favorite of my mother’s in the years before she passed away. also, “The Boxer.” haunting lyrics. you’re touching on all that already and am only half-way through reading. will probably regret posting this comment.
again Robyn, perfect. the left-brain/right-brain is so in sync here, i’m awed and rolling the words around on my tongue. pure pleasure, enjoying, and not even commenting on content, just delivery.
and not beginning to touch to the content of this essay. there are some stories i could relate, but don’t know that the essay requires them.
i am just so very grateful that you mused on this topic, Robyn, and provided this essay. of all topics, this one touches me the greatest. i have been so fortunate in this life; i have also known what a bit what it’s like on the other side and what that other side is like for millions of Americans.