Gone with the Sin

My distanced understanding and empathy for people sounds something like this: "Everyone has circumstances in their life beyond our (the observers') understanding."

I am capable of a more intimate empathy, however. I rarely channel it - when I do my eyes tend to fill with tears and my foundation rattles. Sometimes I can access it through the small moments of perfectly directed film, or expertly conceived music, without coming to tears.

The real understanding rocks me to the core though.

It's the acknowledgment that we all live with fears, regrets, and sadness. It's the understanding, not logically, but to my very center of being that the stakes are higher than I like to admit. Sitting with my knees tucked to my chest, watching the sunny day rise through the slats of the blinds, ignoring the urge to call or text. I feel the rising call of my own solitude, and I wonder: why is this desire to retreat so strong?

The shadows of hurts, wounds still healing and shiny scars, somehow avoid my attention. Running my thoughts over the scabs hurts too much. But today, as I sit and acknowledge the connection between us, I recognize the landscape of my own emotional body - I touch the sore spots, momentarily, but without fear. The tears are there. I understand that, like most vulnerable human beings, I am afraid of the loss. I am afraid to say - I saw my dreams, but I could never fully realize them. How horrible to recognize all your desires and never to reach them?

I hug my knees to my chest. I understand - this desire to hide, it is some primitive form of self-defense. After all, my room has always been my escape from reality and dealing with rejection and loss.

And on the larger scale, I see that everyone hides some form of fear, regret, or sadness. Like me - most people can't bring themselves to acknowledge and face it.