And basically I am left feeling.....not much. I have become jaded to the killings, the explosions, the fires, the wounded, the dead children, the messed up and incompetent legislators. I have news burnout. Or maybe I am simply accepting that ultimate truism in Al-Anon--I am powerless over just about everything, except me and those beloved animals that depend on me to feed them and take care of them. So I've made a choice for silence on news for a few days. I'm not watching anymore grieving parents, people without legs, burning buildings and flabby chinned geezers who proclaim that they know what the American people want.
My powerlessness was a realization early in life. I was powerless over my father's attitude and drinking; powerless over my mother's depression; powerless over the animals that got run over in the road; powerless over love and rejection. But even though I might have known that I was powerless at some deep level, I still suffered in my heart and head from what I couldn't control. I kept thinking that I could somehow make things right, do things over, and force others to see how wrong they were. If that didn't work, I could be passive aggressive, self-pitying, and ceaselessly ask "Why?". Acceptance wasn't in my nature.
I still have an issue with injustice. I want to see things set right. I want to see people care about each other, see their goodness come out.
I'm not about seeing the bad people suffer. Somehow, I think that they already are suffering, not liking themselves much if the truth were known. And for those who can't see that they do wrong, and are all caught up in hate, well....those are the ones that will not get it no matter what I do or don't do.
The injustices of this week will fade a bit with time for most of us. And there will be a respite in which we move on to something else. Even the small "hurts" that happen every day can be viewed as an injustice. What I need to think about is what my part was in what happened. Sometimes the answer is nothing. But most times, if I search deep within, I realize I played a role, at least a small one. Admitting that takes away the power of judging and self-pity and teaches me how not to do it again. Blaming everyone else makes me the victim, and that isn't where I want to be.
I've made a lot of amends for the hurt I caused others. I have wounded quite a few people, both intentionally and without my knowing it at the time. In my life, I haven't looked for ways to dull the pain through alcohol or drugs. I took a lot of it on the chin and in the heart. I was wounded but not fatally so. I got patched up and moved on. And when bad things happen today, I still feel the pain but somehow the hurt is less than it used to be. I am not stuck for weeks on end with resentment and righteous indignation. I don't want to strike out to wound anyone else.
Maybe I have learned that if I am hurting less when the bad things happen, I am able to laugh a bit more when something is funny and appreciate the good times, good people, good books, and good love when they come along. At least that is my hope.