The Whole World is a Good Place

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I wouldn’t say I’m the best at communicating anguish when I hear about something terrible happening to someone. I certainly feel the pain. But when I try to express how horrified I am, or how sorry I am, it all comes out in this stilted and young vocabulary. By ‘young’ I mean, the words I use are ones that two year olds have mastery of, like bad, sorry, hug, wow, feel sick.

Some people have the gift of immediate and profound responses, or can at least show how deeply they feel something by crying right along with the person.

Not me.  I have trouble finishing my sentences.  And, I can’t even reveal my sympathy with tears.  I’m on anti-anxiety medicine and while it has made me more human, in some respects, it’s also made me more robotic in that I rarely cry.  The tears are in there, just waiting behind the eyelids for release, but it’s like they’re jammed.  No matter how much I’m feeling.

So, that being said, when I think about Orlando and everything that’s happened there in the past week, I’m at a loss to communicate. This is the fourth version of a blog post I’ve started, and not one has adequately said what I feel.

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