And then there is the story/photo/video of the toddler that drowned. He was a refugee and his family was seeking refuge. I didn't read the story because I know myself. I know that as a parent of young children near or at the age of the child who died, that I would over empathize. I imagine my own children in the same situation. I did not want to see pictures. I did not want to hear the story.
Alas, Facebook and yahoo have betrayed me. I saw some pictures just from scanning my news feed. It's too much. I keep asking myself,"Why would someone take a picture or draw a picture of a dead child?" Isn't it enough to bear the knowledge that a child has died? I cannot handle it. I have to push it out of my mind or the part of me that feels it crumbles.
There will always be a part of me that sobs viciously and incessantly over the deaths of children.
I want to be censored. I know my limits. I do not want people to share this kind of article even though I know they are doing it to show the world of injustice. But for my mental health, I cannot handle it. I don't get to talk to adults all day and debrief about these things. I don't always want to talk about this kind of thing to the people I'm comfortable with. I don't want to have to deal with it.
For me, with my young lives in another room, I cannot read stories of tragic death, whether from vaccinations, or drowning, or violence, or accidents (think of the first chapter of One Thousand Gifts: the imagery has plagued me deeply.) The pain is real and touchable, because lives are fragile and I am responsible for two fragile lives.
A deep part of my soul cries out for these children.
But I cannot know the details.
So remember that there are always many ways to receive information, and one way is being traumatized. There will always be people who are traumatized by the visceral pain of the world. Right now, I am one of them.
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