There is so much pain in this world. It is broadcasted all across media and there is even more that is not covered by the news. Sometimes, it feels overwhelming. How many times can my heart break for others? Once, I mourned for those lost like I would my own family, but now fear that I have become distant from the pain. I wonder if it makes me less of a person.
I pray for them and do what little I can for them. Unless my PTSD is triggered, I watch coverage of it from start to finish and never look away. I owe them that much, I feel.
Yet it never feels enough.
Am I the only one who feels this way?
In my mind, I count the many blessings I have been given, that I take for granted every day. It is a circumstances of birth that is why I am not in their circumstances. If things had been different, I could have been in their position. We all could have.
My trials in life have taught me that I can’t save everyone. I can’t. I’m only human. It takes more than one person to stop a conflict. It takes more than one person to heal this world. It takes more than one person to help a nation or even one person.
We are not Atlas. In the end, all we can do is do what we can and stick to it. We can only do our very best for others and ojrselves. That’s all anyone can reasonably ask of us.
It’s a sobering thought. They never tell you this when you’re a child, eyes wide with wonder and innocence. You find it out yourself, as you watch the world fall down around you and slowly realize that all those things they told you, about going to a university and getting a degree, then a job, and then a home, as if it were only a bit of a bumpy road, is no longer true. The world has changed.
And so have you.