April 24, 2006
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A Flash of Empathy?
As I have mentioned before, I have NPD–Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It has many symptoms, all unpleasant–we crave attention, tend to lie and manipulate a lot to get it, have a sense of entitlement, and ZERO empathy. One writer has as much as said we are not human. I mildly disagree. Anyway, after three years of interesting therapy, I have transcended the worst of it, the stuff that made me an absolute bastard to live with–mainly the sense of entitlement, the feeling that “I am the Great I Am, and all must bow before me.” Now I know that the stuff that happens to me is not interesting merely because it happened to me. I don’t expect special privileges simply because I was fortunate enough to be born me. But I still pretty much draw a blank on empathy. One therapist early on said that I would never have empathy, and that I didn’t need it. Another therapist, when I asked what that was, said “Empathy is when you feel another’s pain.” I was puzzled–”I feel enough of my own–why on earth would I even want to feel someone else’s?”
Fast forward to this morning,. I’m driving into town, and I see this hitchhiker going the other way, who had just gotten a ride. I suddenly felt that “woo hoo” feeling that you get hitching, when you finally get a ride. I have done a fair amount of hitching in my time, and know what it is like, the highs and the lows. I also felt mildly annoyed that the good Samaritan had stopped so far ahead up the highway, making the hitcher run several hundred yards. As a rule, I am totally indifferent to how others feel or what happens to them–including members of my own family. But here I am, evidently sharing feelings with a total stranger. What’s that all about?
This is what a lot of my therapy is about, though–turning the third eye inward, wondering if what you feel is “normal”, or if it’s psychopathological symptomology. It does get tiresome sometimes, but at least it keeps one awake, in the Gurdjieffian sense.
There was nothing special-looking about the guy. Some big rangy bearded dude, jeans and hoody and work boots–could have been anyone. For all I know, he’s a meth monster, some low-life scum who beats his wife and fucks his dog and cheats at solitaire. All I know is, he is a fellow human being who reached out to depend on the kindness of a stranger, and got it. And I felt good for them both.
If that is what it means to be human, I guess I can live with it.
Comments (5)
That’s awesome.
See, empathy really isn’t ALL bad!
Yeah, what lupa said!
I want to point out that the therapist who told you empathy was “feeling other people’s pain,” also said at the same time that it was feeling other people’s feelings, all of them, not just the pain.
Ah. See, Kathy said exactly what I wanted to say.
This is a GREAT post, but I’m a little worried about what might happen if someone were to come along and object to your remark about the guy having sex with his dog.
The wife beating should be acceptable, as will the cheating at solitare. But the sex with the dog? I dunno man. You’re treading some very dangerous water.
^Perhaps I failed to make myself clear. Domestic abuse and bestiality are generally frowned upon in polite society. Cheating at cards in company is, of course, heinous, but cheating at solitare is generally seen as a rather minor peccadillo, and was added for humorous effect.
Seeing how seriously Sarah’s oblique reference to the new flagging program for systematic snitching fell flat, I feel an urge to clarify. She may or may not have gotten your point. Her point is that once the flag system is in place, your post would undoubtedly get you flagged if the Blog Patrol read it.