the dance of the ink riddled fingers

calloused child

Posted in epiphany tiffany, thought spills by enisea on 24/08/2011

The reality of this was not news to her.  People talked passionately about some people or children all the time.  Her teacher friends would speak of missing their class of children over the holidays or sick days, most even missed the children they met on teaching placements.  She never experienced missing her children: be they any of the 8 placements she did while teacher training, sunday school kids, her current two groups of kindergarteners, children/family overseas or the people she met on that one missions trip.  Heck, if her sister or parents were away for a week or three (usually there wasn’t room for occasions away longer than a month, she wouldn’t exactly miss them.  Having not spoken to a couple of ‘close’ friends for a month or three didn’t seem to have any large bearing on her – she would’ve liked to spend quality time with them, but wouldn’t raise a voice about it because in all honesty, life happens and that’s just part of life, isn’t it? It seems she had no problem disconnecting, and it was only just beginning to trouble her… at age 22.

When people said things along the lines of “i miss you” (which is few and far between), she felt obliged to echo, yet wondered what it meant and why she really hadn’t missed them.  Growing up in a good family, with a supportive assortment of friends, having experienced little to no major or even minor traumas, something felt a little wrong.  Because something told her she should care.  It’s as though she didn’t have to care if she didn’t want to; and if she didn’t remember to, she really wouldn’t. 

I suppose I’m only just realising how calloused I might have become.  A few years back, a friend told me of her attempted suicide, pretty much immediately after it had happened.  I could see her in front of me, I knew she was OK, I sort of wasn’t that concerned… it didn’t shake me, it hardly moved me – I tried to act like it did, but essentially just listened to her emotive recollection and didn’t dwell much on it at all, not in her company and not out of it either…

It’s a little shocking, hey?  I write all the time about caring more, loving more, etc.  I listened to a passionate speaker/preacher last night.  I saw his heart all over his face, he could hardly keep back the tears as emotive passion distorted his face, and I asked God why I couldn’t feel it.  I was prayed for twice, and nothing really tugged at my heartstrings, only the sigh “OK God, you’re going to have to teach me how to love and care for others…because it seems, I don’t really know how to”.

Strange, I’m sure I remember caring about people and crying over people and such… it just seems like a very long time ago, and I sort of see my trail of ‘independence’ leave me quite unattached to…well, people.  Even this isn’t exactly provoking a tear, hardly a furrowed brow, perhaps a quizzical raised eyebrow, but that’s about it.  It’s looking like I need to force myself to love people and eventually… I will.  Because really, love isn’t an emotion (which is just as well, because I’d be horrified if I had no love because I have little emotion for it), it’s a commitment. So I’ll begin to commit myself to people, and hopefully, in time, I’ll have a much bigger heart for the world.

Take that. I’m not that lovely and I probably don’t care about you… not enough anyway.

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