Shoes

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...Until you climb inside his skin and walk around in it."

-Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

I remember back in middle school when I first read that book, as I'm sure a lot of other kids did at that age, and having my teacher drill that notion into my head.

As I've gotten older, I confess I've made the mistake of doing the opposite more than once. Making assumptions of who somebody might be or why they're the way they are based on only a partiality of who they are, and not the whole. That said, I've also tried with greater fervor to understand and reach a level of empathy with those around me, be they friend or enemy.

Over the years, I've had people tell me in what I believe are honest attempts to relate to me on some level, that they know how I feel and understand both what I've gone through and how hard my life now is. And the thing I've wanted to say most in return is the one thing I've never said.

"That's great, but honestly, you can't possibly begin to imagine what it feels like to be me, and I doubt you could handle it if you ever tried."

I'll say this now that I know where this accusation is coming from. It's coming straight out of the Yang that thinks I'm special, and not in a good way, either. It's that angry, resentful part of me that wonders how anyone can possess the empathy necessary to reach the emotional strata that I feel like I reside in all day, every day?

One of the things I've learned over the years is there comes a point where you can't reach that equilibrium with another person. You just can't. Case in point, I have a friend who went through what has to be the heartbreaking reality that she can never have children. As a man who happens to have a child now, there is no possible way that I can put myself in that same scenario and do more than scratch the surface of what that must truly feel like. And to me it would be insulting to look at her and say what we all do in those moments.

"I know how you feel."

There are limits to how far empathy can take a person in understanding someone else, and I wouldn't ask anyone to dare try and immerse themselves in what I live with. I wouldn't because I wish I didn't have to either. They're my decisions, my feelings, my mistakes, my fears, my memories and my regrets, and some days I wonder how even I have managed to do it this long.

Does that mean I think such things are impossible? No. If anything, I would advise anyone willing to try just to be very cautious.

You may not like what you find.