Anatomy of Bad News
9:27 AM
Life is not fair. I can’t.
. . .
To be honest, I don’t know what else to say.
I know that in the grand scale of my life, humanity, and the universe, this is an insignificant matter.
I gave everyone the update just now on the phone. It’s easy to tell others that you are doing well, and it will be alright.
It’s harder to tell yourself the same. Only you can hear your doubts.
The silence is loud.
My heart is quiet.
An empty soul.
But a full mind.
Life is.
12:02 PM
. . .
Life is not fair. When I was younger, he kicked me in the stomach because I was different.
Life is not fair. An earthquake, followed by a tsunami in the Indian Ocean, kills over two hundred thousand people.
Life is not fair. I work all summer and do not make the team—the new Spanish-speaking Caucasian boy with broad shoulders makes it on without even trying out.
Life is not fair. A single parent loses everything because of a financial crisis they had nothing to do with.
Life is not fair. My first love is also my first heartbreak.
Life is not fair. An airplane, carrying 239 individuals from Kuala Lumpur to Beijing, disappears.
Life is not fair. I am abused and go to therapy.
Life is not fair. A global pandemic ensues—millions perish.
Life is not fair. I embark on a sabbatical and immediately tear my ACL and meniscus—surgery next week.
Life is not fair. Over two hundred hostages held—over twenty-five thousand dead.
. . .
Life.
. . .
Life is beautiful. I celebrate Ramadan and Hanukkah—my heritage.
Life is beautiful. 33 miners in Chile, trapped underground for over two months, are rescued.
Life is beautiful. In my senior year, I captain the varsity team.
Life is beautiful. The world does not end in 2012.
Life is beautiful. My little brother excitedly tells me about a girl he likes—young love.
Life is beautiful. Same-sex marriage is legalized in all fifty states.
Life is beautiful. My grandmother survives a life-threatening ailment.
Life is beautiful. Morocco reaches the World Cup semifinals—the first African nation to do so.
Life is beautiful. My friends will be getting married this summer—another will be a parent soon.
Life is beautiful. The Ozone hole is shrinking and humpback whale populations are recovering—hope.
. . .
Life is.
. . .
I am.
. . .
I am what I make of life.
7:21 PM
. . .
There is common refrain that things (life) could be worse.
“If all our misfortunes were laid in one common heap, [where] everyone must take an equal portion, most people would be content to take their own and depart.”
This provides an ephemeral relief.
It takes away the space for one to process and accept their experiences and feelings.
We’re strapped onto the gurney, a translucent bag of liquid misfortune is placed on the side, and slowly through the IV needle, sympathy starts to ooze into the veins.
Initially feeling bad about yourself, sedation creeps in.
Now you are feeling worse about another’s misfortune. Synthetic sympathy.
The bag runs out and you sober up. Uncontrollably shaking, you begin to feel terrible that you felt pity for yourself in the first place when there is a whole world of suffering out there.
This inevitably puts distance between yourself and the “other” and their misfortune.
Seeing that your vitals are spiking, a new bag of the see through stuff is plugged in. You slip back into sympathy.
. . .
Life is not fair.
But we can be fair.
Fair to ourselves and to the “other”.
. . .
Staring in the reflection of sympathy is empathy.
Instead of letting wandering eyes get the best of you to find something else to compare your situation against, sit there.
Look directly into the mirror and feel. Rage. Sadness. Happiness. Pity. Envy. Hope. All of it and more.
Accept it.
Feel empathy for yourself.
Because only then. . .
. . .can you share empathy with others.
We may not know what burdens we each carry but we all know what it’s like to cry ourselves to sleep.
We’ve been there and we’ll be there again.
So, let’s cry together today.
Smile together tomorrow.
Life is.
We make life.
. . .
Author’s Note:
The above was written in several spurts on the same day after the doctor informed me that I had torn my ACL and meniscus and would therefore require surgery. It has been lightly edited since it’s original conception to retain it’s raw and reactive nature.
The comparisons made are intentionally stark as they are an honest reflection of the state of mind we all find ourselves in when we process our own misfortune. In concluding this piece, it reminded me of the following brief monologue from Ethan Hawke regarding the importance of creativity during trying times.
