Wait wait, I changed my mind. Don’t tell me. I’d rather not know. Please don’t share that information with me. Don’t tell me your feelings. I can’t take that on right now. Because you’re asking me to care and caring is heavy. It comes natural to me. I wish I could dismiss your feelings of distress, fear, doubt, loneliness, and anger more easily. What’s that? You never thought that I cared? Why? Cause I didn’t react the way you wanted me to react? Because I didn’t show it the way you hoped I would? You’re probably right. I’m not too good at that. I internalize things. I’m a man. I’m Asian. Not excuses. Just reminding you. Wait, before you start on your rant about being a man and Asian culture, you know I cared tho right? And somehow that caring turned into me closing up even more, getting colder, and you saw that as me not caring at all.
When my younger sister was diagnosed with cancer in her mid-20s, I just ran away. I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I wasn’t there. I tried to behind being busy with work. I didn’t realize I was doing it. Later on we talked about it. She forgave me. When I broke down and cried sitting at a table at a cancer fundraiser. She said we all have our own ways of dealing with things. I cared a lot. I was scared. I hated feeling helpless, useless, powerless like there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t beat up my younger sister’s cancer. That’s what older brothers do for their younger sisters. I cared. That’s why I was scared. That’s why I ran away. But of course it would come off that I didn’t care. Dad sent me an email during the day at work about how he was feeling about the cancer and I was dismissive. Told him that I had so much to deal with and him sending emails like that really threw off my day when I had to focus on what I had to do. Dad, if you’re reading this, I’m really sorry. I was in my mid-20s. I thought the world I figured out revolved around me. Again, not an excuse. An explanation.
It’s possible that we don’t know how to care. Not caring is popular. I don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you do. That’s shouted over and over at parties. Celebrate life. By not giving a fuck. About anything. Except yourself. No one really teaches you how to care. Naturally we feel something when we witness things that resonate with us. That touches us. Yesterday me, Phil, Vinny, and Jocelyne were talking about songs that can make you cry. The talk started because I asked if Phil had ever cried at a concert. Automatically we associate crying with sadness. But tears of joy do exist. I don’t cry much. I tear up once in awhile. Movies, especially docs will do that. A really great sermon or the jovial big guy with the booming voice who sings solo at my church. I can remember most of the times that I’ve cried as an adult. Like real cry. We think that’s the ultimate symbol of caring. We say someone “broke down” and cried. I’ve had girls accuse me of not caring because I didn’t cry about something that they think I should’ve cried. Maybe I did. In private. I also don’t know what to do when someone cries. Are you supposed to hold them? I don’t remember what it was like for me as a kid. I got spanked. Hearing stories about my behavior makes me think I deserved it.
You argue. You get angry. You say things. Hurtful things. Things you regret later. They crie. At that moment you’re still angry. Do you go in for the kill? Do you back off? Do you console them? Do you apologize for making them cry? Did you make them cry? Are you supposed to care? It’s hard to convince someone that you care about them when they’re crying. A woman crying in public is one of the saddest scenes. Especially on the train. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Don’t want to be seen as the creepy guy trying to make a move on a vulnerable woman. You’re supposed to mind your business right? My ex used to tell them, “It’s going to be OK.” Never asked why they were crying. Guess it doesn’t matter. That’s not our business. But a little compassion. A little care. Sure, that’s free. It’s going to be OK.
I care. I care a lot. Sometimes more than I wish I did. I envy some of my friends who seem to go on with their lives with less care about things. Doesn’t mean they’re careless or cold. They just don’t let other people’s troubles trouble them. I don’t do that very well. Another friend of mine seems to carry the weight of the world with him at all times. The ability to feel things deeply isn’t something I want to discard. Oh shit, I feel something. I cut my big toe nails too short and sometimes I have to slowly pull it off. And it catches a piece of my skin. And it bleeds a tad. There’s a cool, breezy feeling there after. I feel like I cut my toe nail. You think it sounds sadistic? I don’t care. It’s like after a great workout and you feel sore, you feel like you really achieved something. I’m getting worried because I think my body is getting used to the 1 mile swims. Now I gotta go longer. Because I don’t feel the pain. Which means more time. Which is something we’re all after.
