Funny how certain experiences in life attract apathy. Physical and emotional trauma. Loss. Abuse. Dismantling relationships. Rejection. Loneliness. I’ve been apathetic before, for a few years—and they were the worst years of my life. I just disappeared and went through the motions. I don’t remember much about those years. I’ve found receipts and journals from that time; these, and memory moments of my kids, are my only vivid recollections. I wonder if apathy acts like a drug and washes over our brains? Our spirits? I checked out because it was easier, I suppose, and lathered on a different layer of regret.
What is apathy? “I don’t care.” “Whatever.” “Doesn’t matter.” “Don’t worry about me.” Silence. Refusal to play. I’m not talking about being an accommodating dinner partner. I’m not talking about choosing passivity. I’m talking about removing oneself from commitment. From the moment. From the person. From the decision at hand. So we won’t be liable in any way. Maybe it’s damage control. Either way, it takes even less energy than blame shifting.
When I checked out, it was the safest door available to me. For my sanity. For my soul— no, not for my soul. But, yes, for my mind and my stress quotient. So, I’m saying it’s a viable choice…but I wouldn’t stay there any longer than you need to catch your breath, plant your feet, and pep talk your heart. You risk forfeiting Time. Derailing Moments. It messes with your memory, maybe your future choices—therefore, your destiny. (Apathy is nobody’s destiny.)
It might be exactly what you need…like a snorkeler slipping below the ocean surface where it’s quiet and life drifts by more gently. It feels soft and safe for a time, until you realize you’re not breathing, that your only survival choice is to burst through the surface and gasp for air. You know, you can float on your back for awhile soaking up the rays before you start swimming again.
I believe we are meant for the sun, otherwise we’d have gills, I suppose. Just a thought if you’re almost out of air.