Why The Door To My Office Is Shut
Sometime after 9/11, months or years I don't remember, I realized that I had changed a little. I can't say for certain that I changed because of 9/11, or that I changed around that time, and it became a useful peg in retrospect, but it probably doesn't matter. 9/11 happened when I was in my very early twenties, not long out of college, a soft, pink newly-minted adult, and was bookended by more personal more petty traumas like the sudden loss of a home, or a job, or (thankfully temporarily) an important friendship. Basically, life. Living changes us, and I changed, and how or why probably isn't so important except that I have a convenient way to map my particular change to something that can easily be named and understood as a catalyst for it.
The most specific change is this: I cried tears of happiness for the first time I can remember in 2002, and at every wedding since, with varying levels of discretion. I cry sometimes at movies or TV shows, and not just ones that are really really good. When other people cry because they are in pain or upset, I cry too. I have always been prone to crying when very angry, but now I cry when I feel helpless, or, more precisely, un-helpful. I cry when something bad happens to someone I care about and I can't think of anything more comforting to say than "I'm so sorry. This is awful." I got a nice thing in the mail yesterday, and that made me tear up. When bad things happen to me, I don't think I cry any more or less than I used to. When bad things happen in the world, though, I find myself crying a lot. When bad things that are the fault of people in the world, that's the worst, because some part of me does think that the world could be perfect and people could stop hurting each other because, really, that's not so hard, right? Just...stop.
I didn't expect this to be the way I changed over time. I thought that experience functioned like a callus, making people tougher, more resilient, less affected by the reliable awfulness of the world and so better able to continue to exist in it and find happiness and things to celebrate in it. Children cry, but adults should not be seen to do so. So I'm keeping my door for a little while longer, probably just until I post this.
The most specific change is this: I cried tears of happiness for the first time I can remember in 2002, and at every wedding since, with varying levels of discretion. I cry sometimes at movies or TV shows, and not just ones that are really really good. When other people cry because they are in pain or upset, I cry too. I have always been prone to crying when very angry, but now I cry when I feel helpless, or, more precisely, un-helpful. I cry when something bad happens to someone I care about and I can't think of anything more comforting to say than "I'm so sorry. This is awful." I got a nice thing in the mail yesterday, and that made me tear up. When bad things happen to me, I don't think I cry any more or less than I used to. When bad things happen in the world, though, I find myself crying a lot. When bad things that are the fault of people in the world, that's the worst, because some part of me does think that the world could be perfect and people could stop hurting each other because, really, that's not so hard, right? Just...stop.
I didn't expect this to be the way I changed over time. I thought that experience functioned like a callus, making people tougher, more resilient, less affected by the reliable awfulness of the world and so better able to continue to exist in it and find happiness and things to celebrate in it. Children cry, but adults should not be seen to do so. So I'm keeping my door for a little while longer, probably just until I post this.