Whenever I mention my past and the things I suffered (and let’s be honest, as much of it as not of my own doing) people are always sympathetic and quick to be sure they’re noted as being sympathetic. And that’s all fine and good. I honestly do think that, though it may be a little sneer-worthy, it actually is rather important that it be expected behavior when some tragedy is mention that sympathy be shown. Even if it has to be somewhat false or insincere. I think it’s important for a healthy society to show intolerance for a lack of empathy.
But it always puts me in a peculiar position. Just as it’s considered appropriate to express empathy and sympathy for someone else’s tragedy it’s also rather expected that, once it’s shown, there will be reassurances that all is well, or at least will be well, in the end by whomever has suffered. That little reassurance all around that tragedy is a passing thing and all will be well in the end.
Jane Doe: I was attacked by ninjas the other day. One of them poked my eyeball out with a throwing star.
Jenny Row: Oh, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry that happened to you!
Jane Doe: Oh, well. I still have one good eye. And the eye patch is kinda sexy, don’tcha think?
Jenny Row: Well, every cloud has a silver lining!
The thing is…I don’t typically want to do that. I really do feel like I’m lucky, as odd as that may sound. As bad as my life has been, from what I’ve seen everyone else has had it just as bad. Certainly not the same troubles and tragedies exactly. And I can’t really say what the heck happened to everyone else in their individual lives. Haven’t a clue. But I know I’m just about as happy and content with my life as anyone else is. Maybe even more so. And I know that all the wounds I have and all the peculiarities about me that make my life so very interesting…well, maybe only a few people, if any, suffer those same things but they all seem to have other things just as bad to contend with in themselves.
For example, I may suffer from bouts of anxiety and even panic attacks at times. But I don’t have a husband who cheats on me habitually or whom I even doubt in that regard. I have nightmares more often than not that wake me literally screaming in the night. But I don’t come home after a long day of work and cry because I’m alone and no one loves me (okay, sometimes I do but I at least get to know that it’s not true). I can’t have children of my own and never will, barring some miraculous breakthrough in medical science. But I don’t have a problem with alcohol or, God forbid, something worse.
In all honesty, I think if I were to trade lives with any random person out there it would probably be absolutely awesome for about a week. It’d really be great. I would be so filled with joy at all the things that I suffer now being swept away and so many things that others take for granted being readily open to me. But I’m also sure that after that first week, once the novelty had worn off and I’d had my little vacation, I’d become aware of all the things that other person, who’s life I’d hijacked, had to contend with. And then about a month later I’d feel no better or worse about “my” life than I do right now.
So you’d think I’d have no problem saying, “Ah, well. I still have one good eye. And the eye patch is kinda sexy.”
But it’s hard for me. It feels false, insincere. Because there really are people out there who actually have it bad. And I mean bad in the sense that they really are more miserable than you and I are. They really are hurting worse than we are. They really, truly do have more to contend with. Enough that sometimes, perhaps all of the time, it’s more than they can take and still function. And so I always get just a little angry and ashamed. Angry that the sympathy being expressed towards me isn’t directed to people like them, who might actually find some strength from that kind of encouragement. Ashamed that it’s being wasted on me instead.
Seriously, folks. I’m fine. Sure I’ve got some troubles and some of them monumentally overwhelming at times. But no more than you. Different problems, sure, but no worse over all.

4 comments
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March 4, 2009 at 6:43 pm
eve1979
Mary, I love your blogs! I’ve read a couple of them now, original thoughts and responses. Sometimes I agree with you and sometimes I don’t. What I’ve noticed is that even if I don’t agree with you, you leave me with some seriously thought provoking points to consider. Good stuff!
There is this automatic, insincere sympathy reaction that most people demostrate. I’m guilty of this as well, and I have to admit that sometimes I find myself feeling uncomfortable when confronted with another persons sorrow. That uncomfortable feeling stems from the urge to force an emotion, to feel what they are feeling and to express to them that I do, even if I really don’t. I guesse that maybe deep down, I think that I’ll be doing them some injustice by not expressing this sympathy.
It depends, for me at least, on what the “traumatic event” is that the person is describing. If it’s something that I just absolutely cannot relate to at all, then it might play out like this:
Me: Hey, what’s up?
Bobby: Nuttin, my aunt had a stroke yesterday so all the family’s together.
Me: Uh………that sucks. How ya dealin with that? (While thinking about how much it must suck to have to spend all day with his entire family!)
That would be me, faking a sympathetic reaction. I don’t think I’m nearly so talented in the reassurance department though (haha). Like I mentioned before, it makes me uncomfortable that I’m not more upset by “Bobby’s auntie stroking out”, because I feel like I’m supposed to be. I’m also a really blunt person whose face twitches like I have some kind of disorder when I lie. I have an enormous amout of difficulty not being sincere – and people pick up on that. I guesse I can’t feel a rush of despair for “Bobby” because I’ve never been that close to any aunt of mine………actualy I’ve always thought my aunts were mean.
However, say I approach a lady who tells me that her husband was killed last year in a work related accident. She tells me how difficult life has been for her since then. In this situation, my automatic sympathy reaction is genuine. The very thought of something similar happening to my husband, and the pain I imagen this women experiencing everyday is enough to make my stomach turn. I could honestly cry with her……..and the tears would actualy be real.
So Mary, maybe everyone isn’t so insincere. Maybe there are some people out there who have been in a similar situation as you, and truley can feel your pain. Maybe “the sympathy is in the eye of the sympathizer”!
March 5, 2009 at 8:20 am
contrarymary
It’s kinda funny but I have to admit…it’s really probably for the best that we have that weird fake sympathy reaction thingie.
Because honestly, can you imagine if we didn’t?
Half the time…
Jane Doe: I was attacked by ninjas the other day. One of them poked my eyeball out with a throwing star.
Jenny Row: Oh, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry that happened to you!
While the other half of the time…
Joanna Flow: My mom died yesterday. Cancer. I miss her so much already.
Jillian Shmoe: Go away. Don’t care. Busy doing something largely insequential at the moment…are you still here bothering me? Get over it already.
Which would really suck, I think.
Yeah, okay. I’m a little twisted. But to your point, there are some folks that truly can sympathize and have suffered something similar. I know some of them.
And I don’t really mind those that merely pretend sympathy. It’s kinda comforting just to know most folks are decent enough to just pretend to care. Sometimes you just aren’t capable of sympathizing with someone else. I hold no one at fault for that.
And in the end, as I said, I really don’t need it. Which puts me in the weird position of pretending to be comforted by someone else’s insincere attempt to comfort…because, you know, don’t want to discourage them from being empathic with other people.
Man, we’re a truly weird ass species, huh?
March 5, 2009 at 12:41 pm
eve1979
Yes Mary, we truley are a strange kind………( fighting the urge to make one of those smiley face punctuation marks).
Yeah, it would be horrible if people were completely honest in this respect. If you are really upset, the last thing you need is someone blowing you off as just feeling sorry for yourself or overreacting. Sounds a lot like my dad. When he can’t relate to your problem, he doesn’t even try to be sympathetic. Like this:
Me: Hey dad
Dad: How’s my girl?
Me: Well, I did have a nervous breakdown today. I got some medication so I should be ok.
Dad: Well, maybe if you would get out of bed in the morning you wouldn’t be nervous.
Me: …………………………………………………..(walks away)
I’m not kidding, he’s really that clueless. Don’t get me wrong though, he’s a great father and a brilliant person. I adore the man. If you know the guy like I do he’s actualy really funny in that “stubborn old guy” kind of way. You just don’t go to the man for a sympathetic ear – and I think we all need a shoulder to cry on from time to time.
I totaly agree that the fake sympathy reaction probably is for the best, especialy when you consider the alternative.
Did you notice Mary, that we even came up with our own terminology for this phenominon? The “Fake Sympathy Reaction Thingie” could be the next big psychological breakthrough!!! How much you wanna bet we don’t even get credit for it?
March 5, 2009 at 7:08 pm
contrarymary
“Dad: Well, maybe if you would get out of bed in the morning you wouldn’t be nervous.
Me: ………………………………………(walks away)”
Some folks…well, it’s like there’s just a wall there or something. Seriously, can’t figure folks like that out. I always assume there must be a good reason they are that way and so I don’t push it but you’re right. You just don’t go there for a shoulder.
As for the terminology thing, yeah. “Fake Sympathy Reaction Thingie” probably wouldn’t get us much credit. Maybe we should go with Latin…
Reaprobarea by Proxy?
Hmm. Heck, I dunno Latin.
Yeah, you’re right. We’re not getting credit. Sigh.