I don’t know where to start… Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t need hugs right now. Or love. There is a disconnect that comes in waves. And the wave pulls you under. You are under water and can’t get out. No panic. Just don’t breathe. Hold your breath and wait for your body to catch up before you break through for some fresh air again. Beautiful fresh air. But right now you are under water. Just lie back and float under water for now. Don’t panic. Just wait…
Do you ever feel like this? What I call “The Heavy”. Where it just seems as if the world gets a little bit too heavy. It closes in on you. When you feel it is just a bit too much. I don’t mean the personal stuff. There is no heavy there. That is always good. Always good.
But the world. This fucked-up world we live in. It sometimes gets too heavy.
It’s been like that for a few weeks now. Sometimes heavier than others. It’s like you are in this noise bubble. Your brain overloaded with so much bad news and visuals that you just can’t make out anything anymore. Like someone switched the lights off inside you but you are still awake – just not sure what is going on and can’t see much of what is inside. Like you’ve gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. Just tired. Just tired. And battered. This fucked-up world of ours.
There are kids dying out there. Of hunger. Of wars. Because the water they drink is bad for them. For no reason but for being born in the wrong place, in the wrong time. It’s too much. I can’t handle it.
I am not strong enough for this. God knows why Ubuntu is in me. It shouldn’t. I am not strong enough for it. I admire people who can work in the field every single day and see it happen. My friend Vasco Pyjama does it every day. Every single day. Somalia. God knows how she does it. She is stronger than me. I love her and Toaf for being able to do that. I am too weak to do it. I am paralyzed when I just think of it.
I never know how long it will take for me to get up again. Just too many faces. Just too many voices right now. Too much to do.
It’s just too much. I wish I could just walk away. Just for a little bit. Just not care for a few days. Just see the sun and smiling faces around me. Without it reminding me of those kids. And the people suffering. Just a few days please.
That’s the problem with this goddamn Ubuntu. It won’t leave you. Because it is you. Goddamn Ubuntu.
Most of the time Ubuntu makes me see the good and the bad. It makes me smell the flowers. It makes me smile inside when I see my little girls laugh and play. It makes me stare at the leaves on the trees changing colors in fall up here in New England. Ubuntu gives me time to appreciate the beauty that’s around me. But it also creeps up and punches me in the stomach. Reminds me that all is not well out there. And “The Heavy” sets in. Like dark clouds moving in. The other side of Ubuntu. Most of the time it is in balance. But sometimes it’s like this. “The Heavy”.
It’s like I am waiting for something. Waiting for the change to happen. For the world to wake up and go “Oh yeah, I forgot about the other people. Let’s sort that out quickly.” Waiting for the world to change. And make this suffering history.
But I know it is not going to happen. It’s not. People will die for no reason. And they will continue to die. No matter how hard I try. No matter what I do. It will always be there. The “others”. The waiting is for a bus that will never come. And it sometimes it gets too much. This waiting. This working. This treading water.
I want to walk away. Just throw my hands up and say, “Fuck that. It’s too much. You go sort it out. Just leave me out of it.” It’s not my fight anymore.
Why do this? I can’t change a thing. It is too big for me. I don’t want to do it. But I know I don’t have a choice. I can sit here and feel “The Heavy”. But in the end… In the end it doesn’t help. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t change anything. It’s just me feeling shit. Feeling overwhelmed. I am not feeling sorry for myself. Just drained, tired, overloaded and helpless. But it’s not easy to shake.
The problem is that it is my fight. I don’t want it. But I don’t have a choice. I can’t walk away. Even if I want to walk away. They don’t have a choice. They can’t take a breather. They can’t stop fighting. They live it each and every single bloody day.
I don’t even know where it is. The Heavy. Is it in my blood? Is it on my skin? Where the hell does it come from? If I can find it I’ll cut it out.
Tomorrow is another day. And I am waiting for that day. I am waiting for that day when I will get up and not feel tired. Or drained. Or overloaded. Not feel “The Heavy”. The day I’ll take a deep breath and stare at the world and say, “Fuck you. You will not win. There are more of us than what you think. We will win. You know why? Because we don’t have a choice.” Maybe not in my lifetime. Maybe never. But it’s worth it. Because when “The Heavy” lifts the world is a better place. A place where we fight. And laugh at the fight we are putting up. Where we shout, “Come on! Is that all you’ve got? Bring it on!”
Just not now. I am in between rounds. Taking a breather. Staring at Mike and looking for where I am going to tackle him next. Where I am going to hurt him. I’ll fight dirty when the bell rings and “The Heavy” lifts. I’ll be scrappy. I’ll bob-and-weave for equality. And jab righteousness. I’ll bite the ear of bigotry and hypocracy with the mouth justice. I’ll kick poverty and injustice in the nuts. And I’ll bring hell with me.
Just not now. Just now. In a little while. I need “The Heavy” to lift. It’ll come. It’s just reminding me that this job isn’t easy. That I should never underestimate it. That Mike is one tough bastard. And there is no end in sight. We’re in this for the long run. It gets me down. And then it will get me pissed off. And then I will fight again. Like I have never fought before.
I get like this sometimes. Do you? Do you feel that it is sometimes too much? Too much to handle? That you want to walk away. Like you have lead in your shoes. Not enough air. Too much going on and too much for you to do. Too many leaks in the wall. A heavy weight on your shoulders dragging you down. That you feel tired to your bones. Drained of all energy. Like you are treading water. Overloaded with faces. Noises of voices filling your head.
Do you ever feel “The Heavy”?
October 21, 2008 at 12:13 pm
Yes, I do. More lately than ever before. Sometimes I have to just turn the news off for a day or two…or stay away from the internet. The only way I can go through is to find small chances to help a little at a time. My most recent find was charitywater.org. They are digging wells in many places to bring clean safe water to people that would otherwise never have it. The world just seems so ugly sometimes. The “haves” seem so determined to “have” it all. But if we give up, they win, who will defend the powerless? Someone has to at least try, even if it is not enough… we can’t give in. Each of us can do something in some small way…I still believe in the power and change of prayer…”He’s not heavy, he’s my brother”….
October 21, 2008 at 1:01 pm
I do to.. a little bit. Though I stay disconnected from a lot – because I know I would never be able to bear it. Some things I don’t want to know.. because it would eat me up! I wouldn’t get any rest.
I don’t know how religious or not you are..
I just know that some people do bear a greater burden than others. It’s not about feeling sorry for. It’s just about having no rest until there is justice in the world.. or ubuntu.. whatever.. It’s a call – to not be quiet.. and an urge to never stop praying.
October 21, 2008 at 1:14 pm
I have only in the latest few years really opened my eyes to this ubuntu and that we can’t be quiet about the suffering. I’ve deliberately tried to shut it out before. I guess it was the Darfurian refugees coming to Israel, and how Israel insists on behaving like the rest of the world behaved during the holocaust, that opened my eyes. I suddenly realised that when I was thinking “not my problem, let others deal with it, I’m just one person, I can’t do anything” – I was thinking exactly like the people who shut their borders to my grandfather who tried to get out of Germany in 1938. And the words of mother Theresa came to me “Even if what I do is only a drop in the sea – I will still give my drop” (or something like that, I’m paraphrasing).
I can’t give money to causes – because I really don’t have any. Yes, I’m a western and probably have much better life than any of them. But it’s still a borrowed western life when you’re living in depts. I can’t give much time or volonteer work either. I have both work, family and studies.
So I used the only thing I had – my voice. I talk about it with my blog. And I talk to people I know when we meet. It’s nothing real, just awareness. But if the awareness reaches far enough, who knows what it can lead to.
The other day I spoke to a co-worker. She told me about a poor suffering cat she found on the street. I told her there are people. Children. Suffering just as much. Her thoughts went to the hospitals. I said those are the lucky ones. The unlucky are in the mud. Dying. Darfur, Zimbabwe, Burma, Brasil, you name it. It’s out there. The starvation, the poverty, the suffering.
A single person can’t do much. But if we all do what we can do, we can accomplish things.
I haven’t felt the heavy yet. Maybe I’m not taking it personal enough. Or I haven’t involved myself enough time to be weary. But you’re right. It’s always back up. Gotta fight back. Kick him in the nuts. He’s a Goliath. But – and this is where my belief comes in – I do believe that he who is with us is bigger than the world.
October 21, 2008 at 9:29 pm
Be realistic. Do little things.
I know I can’t change the world, but I always plan on swimming upstream.
It is better to move small pebbles than crush yourself trying to move the whole boulder at once.
Meaningful change comes from persistence and patience.
October 21, 2008 at 9:36 pm
Nice writing, I think alot of us feel that way sometime in our lives.
October 22, 2008 at 5:36 am
You reflect my thoughts and feelings today. Sometimes it is just overwhelming, but yes, thankfully it does pass. I find that I need to stop sometimes and find a way to fill myself so that I am able to give again.
October 22, 2008 at 9:17 am
Tried leaving you a message yesterday; I call it the ‘Queer Restless Feeling”. That thing you get when you drop your head into your hands and play U2 on repeat. Or write and write or are too afraid to write just in case.
The Heavy, that feeling in your chest, when you can’t swallow, when you’re guilty even when you’re not. Churchill called them the Big Dog Blues, it makes you want to howl.
Hang loose friend, this too shall pass.
October 22, 2008 at 12:40 pm
I do, and I feel embarrassed to admit it. Over all, I have no “real” problems. I shouldn’t feel a sense of dread when I wake up, shouldn’t feel like an anxiety attack is coming on. I should be able to snap out of it.
Don’t get me wrong, I am so thankful for everything I have and eveyrthing I don’t have. I thank God every day for the good health of my 2 daughters, my wonderful husband of 1 year who treats my daughters as he would his own (my 1st husband died 5 years ago when the girls were 3 & 5), for waking up with the knowledge that everyone I care about also woke up this day.
I’ve stopped watching the news every day, I don’t “click” on news articles online that have anything to do with a crime against a child. My outrage over any person being mistreated turns to depression and helplessness too quickly nowadays.
I have no right to be afraid. I think of my husband’s “adopted” (through a Christian organization) son, Miquel, who lives in Nicaraugua. We have pictures of him with his siblings starting from when he was 2 years old. He has grown so much, is so healthy and strong, looks so happy. Four years ago, several sponsors went in together and made it possible for his community to have a well they didn’t have to walk 2 miles to get to. That made Miquel happy. He gets to go to school in shoes and clothes that are new and fit him. That makes Miquel happy. We make sure to include something for his brothers and sisters in his care packages. That makes him happy. Soon, his family will be moving into a new home that has a “real” floor instead of a dirt floor. That makes Miquel happy.
I try to make an effort to be more like Miquel because things I take for granted are luxuries to him.
October 22, 2008 at 3:52 pm
There are those of us who simply have a harder road to walk. Its unfair, our hearts being ripped from our souls almost daily by others.
I try to find the lessons in this “heavy” feeling. What is it I am supposed to learn from it? Why is my soul grieving? Why can’t I simply walk away.
The answer comes. I might not like it, but it does. Usually its something like… if you walk away and not do what is right… then how can you expect that of anyone else? How will other people know the right way?
The suffering however to our souls……..at times for me at least too much to bare.
October 22, 2008 at 4:01 pm
You said: “People will die for no reason. And they will continue to die. No matter how hard I try.”
Being an aidworker, I often feel like that. But then, my conscience continues to push me, to do my part. To at least be able to say “I did what I could”.
But often it looks like drops of water on a hot stove. The more as a lot of the violence, the intolerance, the suffering is not caused by those who suffer. It is caused by politics, by weather, by indifference, by greed of others…
The fire that continues to drive me, is to see the impact of what I do… When I loose that sight, then I get lost…
Peter
October 22, 2008 at 8:04 pm
Yes, it is too much. I have to have the hope that your caring contributes somehow somewhere to the love in the energy of the world so that there is hope. . . .that if enough people show love and caring that the energy will change. . . .
October 22, 2008 at 8:07 pm
I do
October 22, 2008 at 8:10 pm
@Janet – I don’t watch the news anymore either. It drives me crazy. Actually, I don’t even react to it anymore. “The Heavy” will lift and then it will be back on track.
@holeycheese – You said it. I can’t rest. But sometimes it just gets too much. An overload. Too many voices and faces. Deep breath. Prayer. And away we go.
@thatdudeyouknow – The Heavy comes in different ways. Some people feel it drag them down like me right now. Some people can fight it better than me and don’t feel it as much. But dude, you care and that is what it is all about. I think The Heavy pulls me down because it is also the work I do. So it is a bit 24/7.
@scienkoptic – Good advice my man. I generally try to just keep an eye on what is in front of me. One step at a time. One thing at a time. But sometimes I look up and realize that there is no end. Just the individual things we have to keep on doing. I shouldn’t look up. I know the thing that will most likely get me out of this will be a new challenge to focus on and the “big picture” will fade.
@kat – Thank you. I agree. I think many people feel this way. We cope in different ways. Mine is hiding.
@Michelle – The thing that gets to me is that I never know how long it takes. Sometimes a few days. Sometimes weeks. Maybe the 4th of November will snap me back!
@Coffeewallah – You had it recently. It’s not what we want. But it’s not that easy to get out of. I’ll be back.
@ame i.- That right! I feel guilty about feeling this way as well. I have so much. A good family, a decent job, so many luxuries. I have nothing to bitch about. But it still sets in. Miquel is a reminder for us to snap out of it. Too many Miquels out there that needs our help. But I hope they know we all need a breather every now and again.
@Amber – Yeah. We know what we have to do. But sometimes we want to sit on the pavement with our heads in our hands and just be on our own. And then get up and smile again.
@Peter – I shot you an email. I know what you are saying brother. That fire burns. Make no mistake. It burns. But sometimes we just want the fire to not burn so hot. Does it never drain you? It does to me. Every few years. What drives me each and every day also drives me to need to clear my brain every now and again. I will come back to fight. I am doing it while working. But can’t seem to find anything inside to write right now. Auto mode.
October 22, 2008 at 8:16 pm
@Jan – Yes. I know our love and dedication will overcome. Slowly but surely. Sometimes though, we stop and look around and think, “How much more? Will it never end?” That hits us. And then we slow down. Breathe. And take it up again. I know that there are more people who care for no other reason than caring. And just these messages on this page reminds me I am not alone. There are many of us. We are just far apart in body.
@Laura – See? You think it hits harder when you know Africa?
October 23, 2008 at 7:36 am
‘the heavy’ – consciousness
…wat if we can all really trigger off this feelin in everyone…at the same time…wat would happen? …silence
…the reason we can make a change to the world – ignorance
i knw i dnt do enough…but thanks for educatin us…ur doing ur part
im heavy…
October 23, 2008 at 5:17 pm
I’ve come back several times to re-read this post. I suspect anyone with a heart and soul feels this way at times.
One of the most difficult personal practices I have is to sit and respect the times you are asked to stop. May you find additional strength in this time of quiet and reflection. If you always carry the load, then others are never given the chance to feel its burden and learn its lessons.
Be well friend.
October 24, 2008 at 1:48 am
Funnily enough, things have become too heavy for Ms Vasco and myself. We’re extracting, plotting our next move. We aren’t retreating completely, just looking for a new orientation that is more effective and which is better for our mental health. The heaviness has indeed settled over us.
October 24, 2008 at 11:49 am
Alas, we got too heavy. We have decided to leave. I wish it was different. But six months in a Somalia mission is too much. I fear that if I stay, I run the risk of never returning to this type of work. Or worse still, of becoming cynical and bitter. So I’m going away to rest.
And yes, I feel very guilty about walking away. *heavy*.
October 25, 2008 at 8:42 am
@Angie – Oh, you do loads through your blog. I come over to read often and I see Ubuntu in there.
@sahlah – Thank you. It is difficult to stay away even when I have nothing to say really.
@Toaf – You said it. You are taking stock and looking at different angles of attack. I admire you guys. You picked the worse place to go to in Africa. Africans won’t even go there. You have to balance what you can do with your personal health. You can’t let it get you down. It will be good for Ms Vasco to take a breather. It’s been a difficult time for her. The politics and the work.
@Vasco Pyjama – Don’t feel guilty. Don’t. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You picked one of the worse places to start in Africa. Stay open to it, but next time try something like Zambia that is crazy poor but no conflict of religious intolerance. Good decent people. Please don’t feel guilty. You and Toaf are amazing people. You make a difference no matter what you do. But best is to know your limitations and tackle what you can. We are all human after all!
October 25, 2008 at 1:35 pm
Thanks mate. I agree that poor but no conflict is a good place to start.
A lot has happened in this mission that has left me rather scarred and cynical. I’ll try to blog about it, but even that takes so much effort. And thanks once again.
October 31, 2008 at 6:02 am
I, too, have the good fortune to come into contacts with’guiding angels’. see:
http://novice101.wordpress.com/2008/10/30/
Thanks.
November 2, 2008 at 2:43 pm
I do I do I do I do… So much. It is getting worse with years. Cannot really enjoy life much. Cannot deny the pain all around and the hopelessness of it all. And cannot and do not even want to enjoy life while all of that is all around…
Just emptiness. Not depression, but vacuum, apathy…
Yesterday, flying back from Spain, we entered pretty rough zone, the plane was bumping up and down and for a few seconds if felt like we were free-falling. At that moment I found myself winking to my already pale wife next to me: “Hey, perhaps we are going to die today.” Felt like a relief. Did not bring much relief to my wife at that moment, to be honest.
Anyway, the happiness of just being alive is not anywhere near.