A few nights ago, there was an accident in the Canadian province of Saskatchewan involving a bus carrying members of a junior hockey team and their coaches. Fifteen people died, with the majority of them between the ages of 18-20. This tragedy has dominated the news since then.
And I can’t seem to make myself care. I watch the news, because that’s part of my routine, and I think move on, you’ve talked about this enough already. This evening, the news anchor’s voice broke as she read out the names of the deceased, and she was clearly fighting back tears. Her job is to be cool as a cucumber and she struggles to maintain her composure, while I feel like an ice queen.
This isn’t new. Depression does this. It causes apathy that hardens my heart to anyone’s pain but my own. I recognize that this isn’t who I am, but right now it’s how I experience the world. I don’t exactly blame myself per se, but at the same time, I’m the only one accountable for my emotions. There is no one outside of myself that I can blame; only the illness that’s turned my heart to ice.
Jumping off on a bit of a tangent, my brother’s wedding is coming up this summer. And I don’t care. I have no interest in going to the wedding, although I will go because that’s what’s expected of me – that’s what I’m “supposed to” do. I won’t feel happy for him, because my ice heart doesn’t do that. Cognitively, I know that it’s a positive time for him, but there just isn’t any positive emotion to go along with that.
Maybe global warming will melt my heart of ice. Or maybe the solid black of my apathy will sink the Titanic all over again. But now I’m just rambling.
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